


Little Star - Lilith's Arc (Part 1)

by SleepyLilacGhost



Series: Little Star [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hex Bags (Supernatural), Multi, Past Abuse, Slow Burn, Tag As I Go, or bait at this rate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2020-01-16 10:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 78,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18519478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyLilacGhost/pseuds/SleepyLilacGhost
Summary: The Gates of Hell have been opened and Seren's worst nightmare is on the loose.While the Winchesters search for a way to save Dean from going to Hell in less than a year, Seren just wants her nightmare to leave her alone, her Pact to stand firm, and to find some answers of her own.But none of those are easy tasks when demons are involved.





	1. Chapter 15 — Poor Fool

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the second part of Little Star!  
> This will cover both Season 3 and Season 4 since it fitted better to make the Arc about Lilith's presence more than just Dean's 'one year before hell'. It's gonna be a long ride, that's for sure.  
> As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> PS Chapter's number will follow where the first part left. It's easier for me to keep track of them this way, so sorry if anyone finds it confusing.

> _“Blake wants his little princess back.”_

The demon waitress hit the wall behind her with a sickening crack.

Full alert, breath ragged, and with a firm hold on her moon pendant, Seren turned around, taking in the diner. There were black eyes all around, surrounding her, all staring at the scene.

The possessed waitress started laughing.

Bloody hell.

Had Seren just sent her Pact down the sewer? All because of a moment of panic? After everything else she had dealt with and _this_ was how it ended?

Lost in her anxious thoughts, it took Seren a moment to realize none of the demons of the audience had made any sort of movement. They simply kept watching, completely still. In fact, they seemed to be keeping watch not on her, but on the laughing waitress.

With careful steps at first, Seren went towards the exit. The black eyes were still fixed on the demon behind the counter as she kept laughing maniacally, waving goodbye at the girl and throwing mocking words her way. Even after seeing the other demons weren’t a threat to her, Seren picked up speed, wanting to get far away from all of them as soon as possible.

Seren got into Camille, throwing her bag carelessly on the passenger seat and ignoring a shrill scream that came from within the diner. She set the van into motion even before fastening her belt, and just sped along the road, wanting to get as far away as she could, the sooner the better, wishing her thoughts had stayed behind her too, along with the demons.

Her nightmare was back. From Hell itself. Of all the souls and demons trapped down there, _he_ had to be on the lot that had made it out. Of bloody course.

Her brows furrowed, glaring at the horizon. It had been a month since the Gates had been opened. A month since Blake was back. That explained the general sense of danger and being watched. Now it made sense.

Her hands gripped the wheel in a vise, her knuckles turning white. What it didn’t explain was why her contractor hadn’t deemed important to inform her that her personal Boogieman was back on the surface.

Her phone went off and she stopped on the side road with a harsh turn, simply because she felt like it—and she was the only car in the area. Seren dug for the device in her bag and read the message, eyes narrowing at the text.

Letting the device fall into the seat, she got back on the road, turning all the way around and speeding up Camille’s new engine to the max. Her little talk with her contractor would have to wait for another time. A job had come and like hell she would be late for it.

 

* * *

 

“Ben! Help the other kids get out!” Dean shouted as he fought the real state agent, also known as the changeling mom.

He couldn’t help but to stop for a moment, watching the kid assist the others as they climbed out a window, feeling proud of the boy.

A loud crash brought him back to the fight as momma changeling threw Sam around. Seeing as Ben had the escape route under control, Dean went back to kick some changeling ass.

Or so he would have liked, but the woman was prepared for him, almost knocking him out with a plank. He blocked it with his arms before it could hit his head, but the woman took her chance to send him crashing against a half-built wall, breaking it.

Dizzy by the hit, Dean tried to get up, only to fall back on his ass. Sam wasn’t any better, crawling and shaking his head to clear it after the hit he had taken.

The changeling walked towards the older Winchester, already tasting her victory, waving the plank around as if practicing for the final round of a baseball match. The ball, Dean’s skull. She was even taunting him, but he couldn’t make out her words, nor cared.

But before the woman could even rise the plank for the hit, something hit her at waist height, sending her to the floor and away from the Winchester, who could only watch with wide eyes as a young woman, crowbar in hand, tried to regain her breathing while her long black hair was all over the place.

“You alright down there, pretty boy?” Seren got out between pants, not loosing sight of her prey, ready to land another hit in case the monster got up.

“How—”

“Not the time!” she cut his question as she parried the changeling’s attack. Wood plank against crowbar. She had the advantage in that. “Hurry up!”

Grumbling some complains, Dean got up, dashing for the torch while Seren kept the channeling busy. Just when he had it in his hands, someone knocked him down, his back hitting the floor.

When he opened his eyes to see what was over him, he found Seren there, her hands on both sides of his head as her hair cascaded around her face. The position had taken Dean by surprise, but Seren simply growled with a frown, turning towards the monster before getting up from over him in a heartbeat. She made to go retrieve the crowbar, but mama changeling blocked her path, kicking her away and throwing her to a side.

Dean got up and charged against the changeling, only to be thrown away against Sam as he finally had made it back on his feet, sending both of them through a plastic covered would-be wall.

How could one changeling be so much trouble? They were three against one. They should have it in the bag!

Getting tired and furious at the situation, Seren reached for her pendant as she directed her other hand towards the mother changeling. At first the woman laughed at her, mistaking her gesture as begging for mercy. That was until she tried to move, just a simple step in Seren’s direction, but her feet didn’t budge.

“You chose the wrong neighborhood, lass.” Seren taunted with a triumphant smile.

There was the click of a zippo and, the next moment, Dean was flaming the channeling to a crisp, her screams filling the air before she disappeared, along her little twisted seeds, as if they had never been there to begin with.

Once there was nothing left for Seren to be holding on, she released her pendant with a sigh, remaining sitting on the floor, her back propped against a board of the half-built construction. She closed her eyes to avoid the dizziness after using her powers.

Sending a wave was less straining than applying a constant force.

When Seren opened her eyes, she found Dean helping Sam getting up, both shaking their heads but for different reasons. It took a bit for the younger Winchester to notice her presence, a confused and happy smile on his lips as he said her name.

“Wakey-wakey, jolly giant.” Seren greeted him before motioning to his forehead. “That’s gonna leave a bruise.”

“What are you doing here?” Dean practically groaned.

Seren rolled her eyes at him. She had just helped them out of a situation, and the hunter was acting as if she had just busted a party. She opened her mouth to give him a snark remark about it when a tiny voice called her name.

Ignoring Ben’s warnings to don’t go back in, a little girl appeared through the window the kids had used to escape. Her black hair was tied in a pair of pigtails, bangs covering her forehead. Big tears rolled down her cheeks between hiccups.

“Aunty?” the girl called as she watched warily at the Winchesters, specially Dean.

“It’s okay, Julie.” Seren smiled warmly at the little girl. “The monsters are gone.”

The little girl ran towards her then, practically throwing herself in Seren’s arms, hugging her with all the strength her little body had. Julie buried her head in Seren’s chest, searching for comfort, and cried. Seren tried to sooth her softly, shushing her in whispers as she returned the hug, rubbing circles in her tiny back. She made sure her position was as protective and secure as she could provide while still sitting on the ground. They remained like that until Julie calmed down.

“Better now?” Seren asked the little girl, drying her tears carefully with the sleeve of her shirt.

At first, Julie nodded, but then her eyes widened in alarm, “Blood!”

Seren’s first instinct was to check if she had a nosebleed. It wouldn’t be the first, nor the last time, she got one after using her powers the way she had done, the strain too much for her own body to stand. But there was no blood under her nose.

Sam was the one to point out that she had a cut right in the middle of her forehead, where her hairline started. Only then did Seren notice something warm tickling its way down her forehead.

With an exaggerated expression of confusion and crossing her eyes, on purpose, as she tried to see the blood that already slid between her eyebrows, Seren raised one of her hands to the wound. She collected the drop of blood with her fingers and took it to right before her crossed eyes, widening them slightly at the sight.

“Would you look at that. I’m bleeding.” Seren said, using the same tone someone might use to confirm that it was raining. “But don’t you worry, my dear lady. This is ‘bout a flesh bound,” she added with huge smile and some flourish of her hand, cleaning the blood of her fingers in a swift move so it seemed like a magic trick.

Seren had expected the little girl to giggle at her silliness, but she only got a frown from Julie, who crossed her arms in front of her chest with a pout as she gave the woman a hard look.

“This is serious, you fool. You are hurt,” Julie scolded her, marking each word. “What if you hit your head too hard? What if it’s serious?”

What if it’s like Sirius?

“As you said, dear lady, I’m but a poor fool.” Seren lamented with a resigned shrug, keeping hold of her act. “And, as such, I’m absurdly strong-headed.” she added with a wink.

To make her point, Seren knocked on her head with one hand, while the other did so, sneakily, on the board besides her. Julie did giggle this time, even if only for a moment, before frowning and pouting once more at Seren for distracting her. The woman simply chuckled before leaving a little peck on the girl’s forehead with a mischievous smile.

Dean cleared his throat.

Seren had completely forgotten the two Winchester standing awkwardly on the side, coughing softly to hide a laugh of her own. The both of them had a confused expression on their faces, as if trying to count. Dean even was using his fingers not as discreetly as he thought he might be. It was easy to see they were trying to guess if Julie could be Sirius’ child.

She almost rolled her eyes at them.

At the reminder of the strangers beside them, Julie hid her face in the crook of Seren’s neck after taking a quick glance their way. Unable to contain a small chuckle at the kid’s shyness, Seren kissed her temple and got up from the floor, the little girl firmly secured in her arms.

“So…” Sam started. “Is she...”

Seren shook her head, not wanting to voice her answer.

“But she called you ‘aunty’,” Dean pointed out, remarking the endearment a bit mockingly.

“Let’s just take the kids home, okay?” Seren sighed with a glare at the hunter as she adjusted her hold on Julie. She sure had grown since the last time Seren had held her.

 

* * *

 

They dropped each kid close to their homes. After making sure Dean gave his consent, Seren used some of her spells on them: one, to make what had happened more blurry in their minds so it resembled just a nightmare; and, another, so it seemed as if the kids had been sleep-walking when they got home.

She had even included a little charm on the kids, not for them, but for their mothers. Probability stated that some of them might had realized their kid had been exchanged by a changeling and, even if their child was back and safe, there might be something in the back of their minds reminding them of the changeling wearing their kids’ face. That charm was meant to get rid of that bad feeling and suspicion, turning it into the memory of a bad dream.

As usual, it wasn’t a perfect solution, but Seren thought it might be better than to simply let it be. Even the smallest of wounds could get infected and become fatal if not given proper attention.

Once all the kids were back home, it was time to take Ben and Julie back to theirs. And, what a coincidence, they lived in the same street, only three houses away from each other.

Dean had rolled his eyes so hard, holding back some cursing for the kids’ sake, that it made Sam snort a laugh. Seren opted to ignore them and take Julie home so the little girl could rest.

 

* * *

 

Sam waited for Dean in the Impala, parked close to Lisa’s house. His brows were furrowed as he crossed another name from his list. Following Ruby’s words, he was trying to contact any of his mother’s relatives or friends but, so far, he had found nothing. Well, more like he had found none alive.

Laptop at hand, he went to resume his research when shouts from down the street caught his attention for a moment. It seemed just a normal everyday discussion, none of his business, until he saw Seren dragged out of a house and practically thrown out of it.

Quickly, he left the laptop aside and went to see what was happening just as Dean had said his goodbyes to Lisa. The older Winchester gave his brother a questioning look, at which Sam could only shrug as they strode towards the ruckus.

“Don’t you dare set a foot in this house ever again!” the young man that had dragged Seren out shouted at her.

His black hair, even if cut in an executive hairstyle, was all over the place as his face was red with anger towards the woman in front of him. He stood half a head taller than Seren and seemed ready to go for her if she made the wrong move, while she simply stood there, fixing her clothes back in place after being manhandled.

“Draco, please!” a woman called from the threshold of the house as she held Julie, the little girl crying against her. “That’s enough. She—”

“No!” the man shouted back, his eyes fixed on Seren.

“She brought Julie back!” the woman insisted, irate. “She saved her. Saved _us_!”

The Winchester payed more attention to her appearance then. Her ash blonde hair looked matted, and her tan skin had a sickening shade to it, dark circles starting to form under her eyes. Considering Julie was among the kids the changeling had taken, it was an easy guess that that woman had been changeling food for a few days at least. And she knew.

“How convenient,” Draco sneered. “A month ago, she leaves my brother half dead in a hospital after she was, supposedly, ‘protecting him’.” He motioned the quotation marks. “And now she appears, just in time, to safe Julie from whatever-it-was.” He barked a sardonic laugh then.

“If you have something to say, say it clearly, Draco.” Seren dared nonchalantly, her expression completely neutral. “You’ll feel better.”

“I’m saying,” he bit off, glaring daggers at her. “That, after getting Sirius killed, you called whatever-it-was and sent it after Julie. That you put them,” he pointed at the mother and daughter. “In danger so you could appear, safe the day, and gain our trust back, you soulless witch.”

“Hey!”

If asked, he would deny it, but Dean had had enough with that guy. He was the first to point accusatory fingers at Seren, true, specially if it was witch-related stuff. And it was clear enough that Dean didn’t trust her even if Bobby practically vouched for her. There were just too many questions unanswered around her for his comfort. And she was a witch.

Still, that Draco had crossed a line.

Putting Sirius’ death on her was a low blow on itself, but adding that Seren had called the changeling to capture Julie was even lower. Dean had been witness of how much Seren cared for the little girl, how she had comforted her, making jokes to lighten the mood and calm her down. One wouldn’t bother to—nor could—fake that kind of concern if they only wanted to gain the parents’ trust. They would only need to return the kid safe and sound, and it would be done.

Dean still didn’t trust Seren, sure, but he would swear that the young woman would never put that kid, nor her mother, in danger’s way only to be the hero of the day, much less to win that idiot’s trust back. She cared too little about even appearing to be good to do so, and she didn’t need nor want said trust. Dean was sure of that last part the most.

“And who might you be?” Draco scoffed at the Winchesters after a moment of disconcert, venom dripping from his words as he added, “The witch’s minions?”

“What did you call us?” Dean would end up punching him if he kept talking like that.

“Witch’s minions,” he repeated, marking each word and with a dare in his cat-like eyes.

“They are hunters, Draco.” Seren intervened, her voice indifferent. “Dean and Sam Winchester. They saved Julie. I just brought her home.”

Sam was about to protest about her words when he noticed the young man’s stance relax, seeing the two strangers with new eyes after their job revelation.

Draco’s expression changed from the sneer to a solemn look before he gave them his thanks, not without first apologizing, quietly, for his previous words. What’s more, he invited them in, even if a bit reluctantly, not forgetting to send a new glare in his sister’s way, making it clear the invitation didn’t extend to her.

“She’s with us,” Sam said with what could be easily confused as a kind smile. It was not.

“Then keep her leash short, will you?” Draco grumbled before turning back towards the house.

When he reached the woman and Julie, his expression became soft as he said something to them, guiding them back inside. Draco waited by the door for the group to follow, still scowling at his sister, surely wanting for her to scarce. Julie’s mother stood besides him, the little girl holding her hand, both of them giving Seren a hopeful look, asking for her to stay.

But the decision of going in or not wasn’t Seren’s to make. As Draco had left crystal clear, the ones invited were the Winchesters. She would only be an unwanted plus-one. So, with the neutral expression she kept maintaining on her face like a mask, Seren looked at the brothers, head slightly tilted to a side in question, awaiting their decision.

The boys exchanged a look.

 

* * *

 

Awkward.

That’s the only word that could be accurately used in the situation they had gotten themselves into and it still would be a huge understatement.

After sending Julie to her room, not without protest from the child, the five of them sat in the living room. Sam and Dean shared a sofa, while Seren sat on one of its armrests, the one on Sam’s side. In front of them was a loveseat, where Draco and Julie’s mother, Erin Olsen, sat. In between both parties, a coffee table with a variety of cookies on some plates, so far untouched as they waited for the coffee and the tea to be done.

Draco kept scowling at Seren, legs crossed as were his arms, his back as straight as it could be. Erin kept giving worried glances between the two siblings, frowning almost imperceptibly at Draco’s attitude but saying nothing about it.

“Can’t you even sit like a normal person?” Draco snapped at Seren, ticked off by her apparent impassivity.

“These two take too much space and I don’t wanna be squeezed.” Seren stated, motioning with her head to the brothers, her arms crossed loosely.

They also wouldn’t like for her to be too close. Dean, specially.

“Insufferable, as always.” Draco huffed.

“Not like you are being the peak of kindness.”

Draco’s head couldn’t have turned faster, giving an affronted look to Erin for her words. She held her stance, almost mirroring his posture, her head high and a reproachful look in her eyes. The young man tried to reply, but Erin cut him with a frown that could have been mistaken for a tic of her fair brows. Defeated, Draco let out a sigh instead of the words he had wanted to say.

It was for only a moment, but Sam saw the corners of Seren’s lips twitch upwards in a small, amused smile.

“What Draco here is trying to say,” Erin started, turning to the three in front of her with a bright smile. “Was thank you for saving me and our little Julie from the changelings. Thank you very much,” she remarked, her eyes fixed on Seren.

“Just doing our job,” Sam nodded, returning the smile.

“Since when hunters work alongside witches?” Draco asked, motioning derogatorily at Seren as if to make a point.

“You are being rude again, dear.” Erin noted—more like warned—in a singsong voice as she got up, the kettle calling for attention from the kitchen.

“I’m not!” Draco called after her. “Hunters are supposed to get rid of witches. Are they not?”

“And you know that because…” Dean prompted, stuffing his mouth with a pair of cookies. “Many hunter’s coming after your dear sister’s head?”

Draco made a disgusted face at the ‘dear sister’ part.

Sam gave Dean a jab on the side with his elbow as a note of attention, making Dean almost choke on a crumb of cookie that went the wrong way.

“Dad was a hunter,” the young man said proudly before glaring at Seren and practically hissing. “Until a witch cursed him, that is.”

Dean and Sam twisted on their seat to give an incredulous look at the woman. Her expression remained calm, only taking a glance their way to check their reaction.

“When you say it like that, it sounds like I was the one to curse Jethro,” she let out a tired sigh, leaning her back on the sofa, arms still crossed, her leg swinging softly on the side while she examined her fingernails.

“It’s not like you are doing anything to fix it,” Draco accused, leaning towards her over the coffee table. “Are you?”

Seren remained silent, lips closed in a tight line, almost as if she was biting back an answer, her brows furrowed. But she kept checking her nails and picking some hang-nail. It might be imaginary, because Sam couldn’t see any on her fingers.

Draco opened his mouth, surely to let out another resentful jab when Erin was back with the coffee and the tea. As she set them on the table, an alarm on Draco’s phone went off. His eyes widened as he hurried up and out of the living room, asking Erin for his briefcase, cursing Seren’s presence for making him forget he had an important reunion that it couldn’t be rescheduled, and he had only made a stop to get some of the paperwork he needed for it.

After making Sam and Dean promise—he almost made them take an oath—to drag Seren with them when they left, Draco was gone, slamming the front door behind him.

In the long and tense silence that followed, broken only by Dean munching more cookies, Sam turned to face Seren, a grave expression on his face. She held her ground, maintaining both his stare and her nonchalant attitude.

“Your brother is a jerk,” Sam deadpanned.

After a moment of complete silence, a raspberry left Seren’s lips as she covered her mouth, trying to hold the laughter in. But Erin had a laughing fit, holding her sides as she sat back on the loveseat, and Seren couldn’t help it anymore, joining her and falling from the armrest to the floor in a burst of laughter.


	2. Chapter 16 — Meanies and Bullies Don’t Deserve Cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said updates would be on weekends, but I forgot I'll be out of reach this one so I decided to update today instead of making you wait till Monday.  
> Thanks for the kudos and comments. They give me life.

“What’s so funny?” Came Julie’s cheerful voice after hearing the laughs.

She had seen Draco leave through her window, throwing him kisses when he looked up and saw her. In a hurry, he had thrown back some of his own before leaving, almost hitting his head on his car’s door for not paying attention. With Draco gone, it was safe to leave her room to see her aunt without being lectured about it by him. Hearing her mother and Seren laugh was just an incentive.

When she reached the living room, she took a swift look around, becoming a bit wary of the Winchesters presence at first, the both of them too big and imposing. The smaller of the two seemed the scariest for her. But when she saw her mother laughing on the loveseat, she decided they couldn’t be so bad if her mother was laughing like that.

After a moment of only hearing Seren chuckling but not seeing the woman, Julie finally spotted her, sitting on the floor besides the sofa the men were occupying. In a blink, Julie dashed towards Seren, tackling her back to the floor before trying to tickle her to keep her laughing.

Julie loved her weird aunt and liked when she laughed the most. Her visits were always short and Seren usually looked tired, speaking with her mother in shushed tones so Julie wouldn’t hear them. But Seren always had a moment to spare to show Julie some tricks, tell her stories and make her laugh.

“Please, my lady! Have mercy on this poor fool,” Seren called, hands raised in defeat and away from the little girl. “I’ll give you anything you ask of poor little me.”

“Really?” Julie’s eye shined as she stopped her tickling. Seren gave her a solemn nod. “I want a new wind chime. The monster broke the one I had.”

“Why, of course, my dear lady! You didn’t need to torture this poor fool for that sort of trinket.” Seren said getting up as Julie let her go, dusting off her clothes theatrically and adjusting them. “Was my lady thinking about anything in particular?” Julie shook her head and Seren gave her a deep bow. “Then, I’ll get to it, but not without getting my lady’s permission first.”

“You have it, dear fool.” Julie answered with a curtsy. “Go quick as a bunny.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady.” Seren bowed once more before turning to Erin, her little act gone. “I’ll make a round, check that everything is in order. Then, we’ll leave,” she added, looking at the Winchesters.

“So soon?” Erin was quick to ask, her mirth sobering and going next to Seren. “Draco’s reunion will take a while and, technically, he gave you permission to stay as long as they are here too.” She turned to the Winchesters with a pleading look. “You guys can stay for a while, right?”

“Actually,” Sam started, rubbing the back of his neck, giving Erin and Seren an apologetic glance. “We are kind of busy.”

“Nah,” Dean dismissed, picking a new cookie from one of the plates and biting on it. “We can stay a bit longer. No trouble.”

Sam called his brother’s name sternly, giving him a look. He was starting to be more than a bit tired of his older brother ignoring the fact that each day that passed, it was a day less they had to search for a way to get rid of his contract.

“Great, then I’ll make some more cookies!” Erin celebrated, clapping her hands with a bright smile. “Do you want to help me make them, Julie?”

“Yes!” the little girl celebrated, hopping around before turning to Seren with exited, twinkling eyes. “We’ll make lots and lots of chocolate chips cookies, so you can’t leave before they are done. Got it?”

“As I said, my dear lady: your wish is my command.” Seren said with a bow, but this time that wasn’t enough for Julie, who was giving her a hard look, her arms crossed. “Okay, okay. I won’t leave before the cookies are done. Cross my heart.” Seren made the motion.

“Good enough,” Julie grinned before following her mother to the kitchen.

Once both mother and daughter were out of earshot, Seren turned to the brothers, arms crossed and standing as tall as her height allowed her, sending a glare towards Dean, as she seemed to look for the right words to ask his intentions without revealing anything.

“Don’t you have a ‘round’ to make?” Dean sassed, stuffing one last cookie in his mouth before getting up from the sofa. “Come on. Go, go.”

The young woman narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious and trying to read him but seeing nothing. With a tired sigh, she gave up, hands in the air before turning towards the front door and getting out of the house. Dean followed, and Sam followed Dean.

 

* * *

 

“So, what’s the deal?” the older Winchester asked, leaning on Camille’s closed back door as he watched Seren rummage around her boxes. “How does the daughter of a hunter end up being a witch? Rebellious phase gone too far?”

“If your soap opera doesn’t have enough drama for you, go look for another one, pretty boy.” Seren grumbled, jumping out of Camille with a box under her arm before slamming the door closed, making him flinch away. “I’m quite sure there are plenty for you to watch.”

“I’m just curious, prin—Auch!” Seren had cut him by stomping on his foot. “Hey!”

“I’ve warned you plenty of times by now,” Seren called back as she kept walking back to the house. “Don’t _ever_ call me that.”

“What’s her problem?” Dean turned to Sam, outraged but still following her around, now at a safe distance.

“You are being a jerk,” Sam stated simply, giving his brother an innocent shrug when he glared at him.

“Bitch.”

The Winchesters followed Seren to Julie’s room, where she removed and cleaned what was left of the old wind chime, and hanged the new one in its place. It wasn’t much different to the one she had on Camille’s back door, that is, until Sam decided to take a closer look at it when Seren went inspect something on the other side of the room. That’s when he found, among the colored crystals and mirrors, protective runes camouflaged between random designs so it just seemed like an aesthetic choice.

After noticing this, Sam followed Seren’s movements with more attention, specially when the woman stood still, her eyes carefully observing something in particular. That’s how he found wards all over the kid’s room, none of them standing out even if they were in plain sight.

“Impressive,” he couldn’t help but to say looking at her with a certain degree of awe. “You did all this?”

“Erin asked and it’s not like I could have said no.” Seren shrugged casually before laughing softly at the memory. “First-time mom with knowledge that some children-eating monsters actually exist? Poor thing wouldn’t calm down until I warded the room with everything I knew of.”

“And what the fuck is this supposed to be,” Dean cursed, kneeling near the radiator and getting up with a pouch in his hand.

“A hex bag,” Seren answered before having the item thrown at her. She caught it before it hit her face. “It’s a protective one, pretty boy. Look,” She growled as she opened it. “See? Just a bunch of protective herbs, some stones, seeds, and mouse bones. It’s supposed to keep the pest away, like the changeling.” Seren went silent, inspecting the contents closer before letting out a frustrated groan. “And, of course, it’s too bloody old and worn out to actually work. Bloody hell.”

“It’s not like you could have known,” Sam tried to comfort her.

Seren couldn’t help but to scoff. Sure, she couldn’t have known a changeling was camping on Erin’s neighborhood, but she should have known the hex bag in charge of keeping it away had expired.

Even though she wasn’t a hunter, Seren keep her own journals to have a record of everything in case her memory failed her. When she had had to cast which spell and why. When to feed her hexes so they stayed alive and working. All the hunters, witches, or whatever she worked with along some notes of the job in question.

Every-bloody-thing was recorded in her notebooks so she wouldn’t make this kind of mistakes. So how did she forget to feed this one? If she hadn’t, Erin and Julie would have been safe from the changeling. Hell, if worst had come, even Draco would have been in danger if the monster had seen him as a bloody threat!

Seren closed her eyes as she rubbed soothing circles on her temples, a headache forming. Too many things were stacking up for her to look into and she was starting to notice the lack of sleep affecting her. Not a good combination.

When she finished inspecting thoroughly the rest of the protections, fixing the ones she could fix in the moment and taking note of the ones she couldn’t, the delicious smell of freshly baked cookies floated all around the house.

 

* * *

 

“Cruel,” Seren pouted when Erin swatted her hand away from the dish where the cookies were left to cool down.

“They are still too hot, aunty.” Julie laughed. “You’ll burn you tongue or get tummy-ache if you eat them now.”

Seren whined with an over exaggerated pout, resting her chin on the counter, staring longingly at the dish of cookies. Julie chuckled, poking Seren’s puffed cheeks so she made raspberries, making the little girl giggle.

“So, how did you meet each other?” Sam asked, trying to make conversation. With a bit of luck, it would keep the mood light.

“Formally, in high-school.” Erin chirped with a bright smile. “We were classmates. A teacher put us together for a group project and we just clicked. Best friend since, right?”

“I don’t know. My best friend wouldn’t make me stare at a dish of cookies without letting me eat even one.” Seren teased, with a lopsided smile.

“Take it as patience and self-control training,” Erin returned, making Seren huff.

“And when did she tell you about her being a witch and all that jazz? At a girl’s sleepover?” Dean asked, making Sam massage the bridge of his nose. So much for keeping the mood light. “And what does that ‘formally’ even mean?”

“No cookies for you.” Julie sentenced before her mother could speak, taking away the dish from Dean’s reach. “Meanies and bullies don’t deserve cookies,” she sentenced, sticking her tongue out at him.

Erin hid a laugh behind a cough, giving her daughter a proud look. Seren smiled, offering the little girl her closed hand for a first bump. Julie accepted it in a blink, both of them making an explosion sound after their fists touched, Julie giggling afterwards.

“I kind of found out about all the supernatural thing when Seren saved me and some friends from a… A wendigo?” Erin asked slowly trying to make sure to say it properly as she turned to her friend for confirmation.

Seren was caught about to take a bite from a still warm cookie, making Erin frown and Julie ask loudly, in awe, how she had caught one when the girl had been keeping watch over the whole batch all the time.

“A wendigo, yeah.” Seren nodded, leaving the cookie aside, reluctantly, under Erin’s warning glare. “I was in charge of keeping watch of the group of teenagers—keep them calm and all that—while Bobby and John went after the bloody thing.”

“Convenient how you leave out how you were the one to stop it in the air when it almost got Ethan, making it an easy target for the hunters to torch it,” Erin pointed out before laughing. “As if the poor guy needed more reasons to like you. I swear he was giving you the biggest lovesick puppy look I’ve ever seen the whole time you were with us.”

“Don’t remind me,” Seren hid her head under her arms, resting it on the counter. “Bobby and John wouldn’t stop teasing me on the ride back about it.”

“And the ‘formally’ part?” Dean asked sounding annoyed, not sure if because the anecdote, or because the stare down he was having with Julie as she zealously guarded the cookies from him.

Just as Erin opened her mouth to answer, Seren cleared her throat, loudly. Now she was the one to send a warning glance towards her friend, who seemed to be in a chatty mood that day, which meant she could reach the point of becoming a bit of a blabbermouth. Just like in high-school.

“Wait,” Erin stopped herself, motioning to Dean to do the same, before she turned to Seren. “How many Trust Points do they have?”

“Not enough to unlock that part of my backstory,” Seren smirked.

Erin took air though her teeth, making a hissing sound as she grimaced, “That low?”

“They both share point count and pretty boy—” Seren motioned at Dean with her head like he couldn’t hear her. “—keeps giving me reasons to deduct some here and there. They are kind of stuck.”

“Do they even know about the DP?” Erin asked in a not-so-low whisper, leaning towards Seren as if to keep it between them.

“They know the basic info about it.” Seren turned to Dean, reading the coming protest about their coding in his frown. “DP stands for Demon Pact.”

“There’s more to that stupid pact that what you told us?” the hunter sounded seriously offended at this revelation. “And she knows?”

“I’m her best friend.” Erin shrugged with a smirk.

“Even I know what that ‘formally’ means,” Julie teased Dean in a singsong voice.

He mocked her, mumbling the words she had just said, and tried to pick a cookie with a quick move. But Julie was faster, swatting his hand away with a loud slap that left the hunter wide eyed as he rubbed his hand.

“Who is being mean now, huh?” Dean protested, sticking his tongue at the little girl.

“Mature,” Sam commented, giving his brother a look.

“Very mature,” Erin remarked as Seren picked a cookie, ever so slowly if only to mess with him some more.

The three of them laughed at Dean’s affronted expression and his pouting. It only went away when Julie, feeling pity for the now not-so-scary man, gave him half a cookie.

“Meanies and bullies don’t deserve cookies,” she started. “But I’ll make an exception and give you half because you made mom and aunty laugh.”

“I saved you from the changeling!” Dean reminded her.

“Aunty would have done so too.” Julie retorted, eating the other half of the cookie she had given him. “You just got there before her.”

“What do we say when someone gives you something, Dean?” Sam teased.

“My vengeance will be terrible,” the Winchester declared, glaring at Seren and Sam mainly, before stuffing the half cookie in his mouth, adding with a mouth full, “Better be prepared.”

Julie laughed, and Erin took the chance to remind her daughter it wasn’t good manners to speak with food in one’s mouth like Dean had done, which made Seren and Sam conceal their amused smiles while Dean let out a tired groan.

“Well, time to go.” Seren said, getting up from her seat, making both mother and daughter whine in protest. “Cookies are done and I’ve already checked everything around the house,” she told Julie before turning to Erin. “The basics are covered, but there are some specifics that need renewal.”

“So you’ll come again soon?” Julie jumped, hopeful.

“My apologies, my lady, but it cannot be.” Seren said softly, crouching so they were the same height.

“But you could come when dad isn’t home,” the little girl pouted. “We’ll keep it a secret so he won’t get mad.”

“Keeping secrets isn’t right, Julie.” Seren sighed with a sad smile. “Let’s say we do that. Then, one day, Draco happens to discover the truth. How do you think he will feel? Apart from angry and mad at me,” she couldn’t help to add with a mix of scoff and chuckle that the kid echoed.

“He would be sad because we hid it from him.” Julie lowered her head, ashamed. “But you kept coming even when Draco didn’t like it! Why not keep doing it? And why is he so mad at you? Just because you are a witch?”

“Julie, that’s enough.” Erin called softly. “Seren has to go now, so give her a big hug and say goodbye.”

“But I don’t want to say goodbye!” Big tears streamed down the little girl’s cheeks.

“Oh! But this is not a goodbye, my dear lady. It’s an until we meet again.” Seren said cheerfully, a bright smile on her face. “That I can’t come here, to this house, doesn’t mean we won’t meet elsewhere. Does it?” she told Julie with a wink.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Swear it,” Julie demanded.

“I swear, for the holy and the unholy, that we shall meet again, my dear lady.” Seren said solemnly, one hand raised as if taking an oath.

Julie tackled Seren for a hug, her little arms holding her tightly over her shoulders as the little girl buried her face on the crook of her neck. Seren returned the hug, rubbing her back before patting it softly to indicate it was time to let go. Reluctantly, the little girl did so with a big pout as she tried to hold her crying back.

“Why don’t you go check your new wind chime?” Seren suggested as Julie sniffed and dried her tears with the back of her hands. “Who knows what you may find there.” She continued with a grin once she had Julie’s curious attention. “Maybe some sort of clue to a little surprise I hid for you to find.”

“When? How?” Dean snapped, frustrated at the idea of him not having noticed. “We followed you the whole damn time. You didn’t put anything. There’s no way you did!”

“A treasure hunt?” Julie asked excitedly, ignoring Dean’s complains.

Seren nodded and the girl dashed upstairs, giggling, eager to find her surprise. Erin watched her daughter go, shaking her head softly with a small smile on her lips. She accompanied them first to the door, before following Seren to her van.

“You know you can go now, right?” Erin said to the Winchesters, who were still near.

“Sorry, but we promised Draco to make sure the witch left the premises.” Dean answered with a petulant smile. “We are just doing our job.”

The women rolled their eyes at him while Sam opted to act as if he wasn’t there at all. His brother was being stubborn just because and there was no fighting that without the risk of making it worse—or Dean turning against him.

“Whatever,” Erin sighed before turning to Seren, trying to act as if the Winchesters were already gone. “You better don’t forget this is my house. I’ll decide who is welcome and who isn’t.”

“Not this again, Erin.” Seren closed the driver’s door she had just opened and went to stand right before her friend, arms akimbo. “You love Draco. He makes you happy, and you make him happy. He’s been a father to Julie all these years you’ve been together—”

“He’s not her father?”

“Draco was thirteen when she was born, pretty boy.” Seren answered with a tired sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “He and Erin didn’t even know each other back then.”

Dean sure was missing his soap opera drama.

“Did you really think, even for a moment, that I would have slept with a prepubescent?” Erin turned to Dean, head high and arms crossed, daring him to say more. “What do you take me for, huh?”

The hunter backed away from her, hands raised in surrender and looking at Sam for help. He just shook his head as Dean kept putting his foot in his mouth when he pointed out that, technically, she had been a teen-mom. Maybe if his brother did put his foot in his mouth, _literally_ , he wouldn’t mess things up so much.

“Erin!” Seren called so her friend would stop arguing with Dean so they could finish their conversation. “You and Draco are gonna get married.”

That Seren knew about it, specially when she hadn’t tell her yet, left Erin speechless. She gave her friend a small frown along a swift glance at Seren’s naked fingers.

Even if a bit hurt that Erin would think she had taken a peek in her mind without asking, Seren pointed at the engagement ring Erin wore on her left ring finger, a discreet sapphire shinning on it. It didn’t take a genius to know what that meant.

“I could tell Draco there will be no wedding if he keeps vanishing you,” Erin mumbled, biting her lip and twisting the ring on her finger. “I could even call the engagement off if—”

“Don’t you dare.” Seren’s tone was harsh, leaving no space for comebacks. She would accept none at that point. “I’ve warned you when you started dating Draco. If you ever had to choose between him and me, you’ll better choose him or I would never forgive you.” Seren reminded her, her expression severe.

“But you are my best friend!” Erin insisted. “And your brother is so damn stubborn, he will never let you put a foot in our house. Ever. How can I just accept that?”

Seren shook her head with a sigh, crossing her arms before her as she fixed her stare on the floor between her feet and Erin’s, her eyebrows furrowed. A voice in the back of her head wouldn’t shut up, telling her that she had more pressing matters to focus on than this, and why was she wasting time there when she should be doing something else, something important. But the little, annoying voice was wrong in something. This conversation was important too, and Seren wouldn’t leave until she had left her point clear for Erin to understand.

“You’ll accept it precisely because I am your best friend and you are mine,” she said, doing her best to keep her expression neutral. “And, as such, I won’t let you throw away your happiness, much less Julie’s, just to keep me around.” Her words moved Erin to silent tears. “Come on, don’t cry. We’ll keep in contact, I swear.”

“You better,” Erin warned before hugging her.

“Seren!”

The group looked up, finding Julie’s windows open as she waved one of her arms enthusiastically. Erin sobered up enough from her crying to warn her daughter to be careful and don’t lean out of the window too much.

“I’ve found it!” Julie announced proudly. “I promise to always wear it.”

“Now we match!” Seren shouted back, raising her left arm to show her charm bracelet at the little girl. “Be good, okay?”

“As much as I can,” Julie nodded. “Love you, aunty.”

“Love you too, my dear lady.” Seren gave a deep bow and the little girl went back inside, closing her window.

Taking that as the final goodbye, she turned to Camille, opening the driver’s door as she informed Erin that she would send her the protections that had expired along with instructions, making it crystal clear she would have to follow them point by point, no excuses, or they’ll be useless.

Seren was about to start Camille, when Erin remembered something, asking her to wait just a moment. After all her insistence, Seren accepted, letting out a groan and leaning her head on the wheel when she saw Dean coming back the few steps he had taken towards the Impala. Sam seemed done with his brother’s nosiness too.

“Enjoyed the drama, pretty boy?” Seren grumbled, resting her cheek on her fist, and her elbow on the wheel.

The smug expression Dean had on his face at her annoyance was answer enough.

Before they could get into an argument, Erin was back, a colored semitransparent container full of cookies in her hands. She gave it quickly to Seren along a quick and awkward hug through the open window before going back inside the house, not wanting to see her go. She always cried when she saw this kind of scenes in films and shows, and real life was worse to bear.

“Here, for you.” Seren said, picking a cookie before handing the container though the window to Dean. He gave her a confused look, looking between her face and the treats. “You are mean and a bit of a bully to me, but you did safe Julie and Erin from the changeling. I wouldn’t have gotten here in time if you hadn’t done such a great job with Camille’s engine,” she admitted with a sigh, a hint of a lopsided smile on her lips. “So you are good enough to get your helping of cookies, pretty boy. _Bon a_ _p_ _p_ _é_ _tit_ _!_ ” she wished him with a wink.

Not giving him time to say anything, Seren closed the window, turned on the engine and got Camille back on the road, direction to the first decent hotel with a good bar she could find.

She had a pending discussion with her contractor and it was to her best interest it went smoothly. Choosing somewhere that met his taste was a good way to make him more receptive to what she had to ask. Or, at least, she thought so.

She would have to make sure there was the Craig he liked at least.

 

* * *

 

Sam sat in the motel room, a list of crossed names in his hands. All of his mother’s friend, anyone that had been close to her, was dead. Someone had killed them, one by one, wiping them all off the map to cover their tracks.

Ruby had confirmed him it had been Yellow Eyes’ doing.

Ruby, who wasn’t a mysterious hunter as they had thought but a demon. A demon who said was there to help him figure out what Yellow Eyes had done to him, that would help him from time to time. When asked why, she avoided revealing her reasons, but offered Sam something he wouldn’t refuse: saving Dean from Hell.

Trusting a demon was no easy thing, and Ruby could read that in his expression, a smile appearing on her lips when she noticed he was missing a key name from his list.

She pointed it out, assuring him he might have more luck with this one. She took the list from him and picked up a pen, quickly scribbling the name before returning the paper back to him. With a confused and suspicious expression, Sam read the name, his eyes widening. 

> Gwen Vaughan–Greenberg.

“I won’t blame you for not trusting demons, Sam. We certainly are a twisted lot.” Ruby said walking casually around the room. “But having _pacts_ with us seems to be quite beneficial for some.” She gave him a pointed look. “So think about it.”


	3. Chapter 17 — Hex Bags From Top to Bottom

Dean and Sam were working a case in a small town in Michigan. At first it was meant to be just a stop in their journey but, the morning when they were supposed to leave, the boys heard about strange events happening around town. Seven weird accidents, all over town, in only three days. Nothing mortal, but some had been too close for comfort, so Dean convinced Sam they should take a look around.

As usual, they dug up as much information as they could from the victims and their environment, all of them confused about how it had happened. Some had even pointed out how rare the accidents had been, as if taken from a cheap version of _Final Destiny_ sans death.

The Winchester also checked each and every place where the accidents hand taken place finding in each and everyone of them, at least one hex bag.

“Damn witches,” Dean cursed.

There was only one place left for them to investigate, the Swansons’ home, where the last and most recent of the freaky accidents had happened.

It was a homely house on the outskirts, with everything a normal happy family would wish for: white picked fence, lawn perfectly cut, and aromatic flowers adorning the sides of the entrance to welcome the visitors. It even had a huge tree growing in their backyard. Sam had only realized there was a tree house built on it, hidden between the green leaves, by following the laughs of children that came from it as they played.

Mrs Swanson opened the door when the ringed the bell, a tense and worried expression on her face. Her sister, Margot, there only for a few days visiting the family, had been the one to suffer the creepy accident. She had fallen from a chair when she was changing a bulb on the living room, impaling herself on a poorly located statue. Lucky her, she had reacted in time to avoid the decoration stabbing her chest, getting a wound on her left arm along with a concussion from hitting the table it rested on, and other bruises from the fall. Her condition was stable, but the doctor had her in observation, just in case.

That had been the official report. When they had talked with Margot, she had looked nervous when she retold the Winchesters what had happened. They could see clearly on her expression that she was omitting information. After a few reassurances and a kind look from Sam, she admitted that she had felt something, a chill that had made her got lightheaded for a moment before something, not even a hand, had dragged one of her feet out of the chair, making her fall.

It seemed the woman believed in the supernatural, just some basic superstitions about Ouijas boards, some voodoo, and talismans. She was up-to-date about the other incidents around town, and she would swear they were connected somehow.

“I know it sounds crazy,” She had scoffed with a dry laugh. “But there is some sort of curse or evil eye or something going around.”

She was so shaken thinking she was being too paranoid but also so sure of her deduction, the Winchesters felt a pang of pity for her. After exchanging a look, Sam was the one to tell her that she might be right, and that they were there to fix it before something worse happened.

“Sam and Dean, right?” Mrs Swanson asked with a shaky smile. “Margot told me you were coming. Is it true? That we are cursed?”

“We’ll know after we take a look around, Mrs Swanson.” Sam smiled at her as she fidgeted with something hanging from her neck by a thin chain. “It shouldn’t take us long.”

He had been too optimistic.

Unlike the other places they had checked, that house had been rigged with hex bags from top to bottom. The damn things were everywhere: living room, kitchen, bedrooms. Even in the bathrooms!

Exchanging worried looks, the Winchester took each and everyone of them from their hiding place, and quickly burned them in the fireplace the house had. Mrs Swanson watched them work in shock, a hand covering her mouth.

When they left, they assured the fretting woman that it should be fine now, that there should be no more problems since they had gotten rid of all the hex bags—they hoped so. Even so, Sam gave her their number, just in case. That seemed to be good enough for Mrs Swanson. She let out a relieved sigh, even if her fingers still fidgeted with what ended up being a star of David around her neck.

 

* * *

 

“Did those hex bags look familiar to you?” Dean asked as he drove the Impala back to the motel they were staying in.

“Yeah,” Sam admitted, his brows furrowed. “But most hex bags follow the same rules. It’s not like witches sign their work, right?”

Dean huffed.

It was true, hex bags followed a recipe that had to be followed to a T, at least as far as he knew. But the hunter was sure all of the hex bags they had found looked like the one he had seen at Erin’s house, which meant they could be Seren’s work. Specially the ones they had found in the Swanson’s home.

Sam wasn’t ignoring the issue, but his attention had been more focused on the absurd amount of hex bags they had found in that house. With the hurry of getting rid of them, none of the brothers had taken a proper look at their contents, but Sam had noticed there were differences between some of the hex bags. They could clearly be divided in two types even: one, dusty and well hidden; the other, clean and concealed just enough so that the house resident’s wouldn’t notice them. Of the first type Sam could swear they had found at least one per room. Of the second though, they had found just three, strategically scattered around the first floor as if to cover as much area as one could with just those three.

As soon as they entered their room, Dean called dibs for the shower, leaving Sam to map all the information they had collected, trying to find any connection that would point to the culprit.

No such luck. It seemed to be at random, like some sort of twister entertainment. Place the hex bags and see what happens.

“This is why I hate witches,” Dean grumbled, letting himself fall back on his bed after going over some of their notes, hair still wet. “Sometimes they do thing just for kicks and—”

Sam was saved from Dean’s rant by his phone going off. Motioning for his brother to at least lower his voice, Sam took the call not without his eyes checking the hour on auto. It was past eleven in the night. What could have happened?

“You said it was over!” Came an angry and teary voice from the device.

“Mrs Swanson?” Sam asked even if she had kept talking. It was hard to understand her words. “What happened?”

 

* * *

 

Nathan and Esther Swanson had gone out to have a romantic dinner at a restaurant, a little tradition of theirs for Friday’s night. As always, they left Millie and Anne—their daughter’s of eight and six years old respectively—alone at home, already on their beds, and asked their neighbor, Ms Robertson to keep an eye on the house from hers.

That system had worked for almost a whole year now and, except once, when little Anne had a nightmare and Millie went to their neighbor for help, crying because she couldn’t calm her baby sister, nothing had ever happened.

Until that night.

When Ms Robertson, the neighbor, went for a midnight snack to her kitchen, she saw lights on in the Swanson’s home. Worried, she went to check on the kids, picking up the spare key she had for emergencies.

Just when she was about to enter through the front door, loud voices and noises of what seemed to be a fight came from inside, stopping her on her tracks.

As quick as her trembling finger allowed her, she dialed the police and waited for them, praying that the kids where alright, too scared to go in herself to get the little girls out.

The ruckus had died down by the time a police car arrived. Ms Robertson went to them and gave them her key so the officers wouldn’t break the door. As quickly as she could articulate, she explained all she knew in a hushed voice.

The two officers had gone in, guns raised, and scanned the scene. The living room had been made a huge mess, sofas turned over and bookshelves missing shelves, books and little decorations scattered around. The coffee table’s legs had broken as the inert body of a man now rested over it. A second intruder loomed over the dead body, stance wobbly. Swiftly, one of the officers arrested the suspect, who didn’t resist in the slightest. Seeing as her partner didn’t need her assistance, the other officer went to search for the two girls around the house, calling for them to come out of hiding, that everything was fine now, that they were safe.

She received no answer.

But as soon as Esther Swanson, who had hurried back along with her husband after being called by Ms Roberston, called for her little girls as she exited the car, Millie’s voice answered back for her mother. Both girls had been hiding in their tree house the whole time, making the officer want to scold them for not answering when she had called, but stopped herself seeing as the family hugged and comforted each other.

The police filled the event as a kidnapping gone awry.

That’s what the officers reported to the Winchesters when they arrived to the scene, posing as feds, saying they had been following the track of some human-trafficking mob that had lead them there.

The suspect had already been taken to a cell at he station, and the forensic team was in the process of removing the dead body from the crime scene after taking all the samples and photographs they thought pertinent.

Once all were gone, including a relieved Ms Robertson, and Mrs Swanson took Millie and Anne back to their beds, Sam and Dean asked to take a look around. Mr Swanson was more than a bit reluctant, even after hearing good words of them from his wife.

“Can’t you guys leave it for tomorrow?” Mr Swanson said with a tired sigh. Seeing his girls safe and sound had made all the tension leave his body. “It’s been a stressful night and we would like to rest.”

The Winchester nodded and arranged to be there in the morning.

 

* * *

 

Dean was fuming.

Just as they had agreed, they went to the Swanson’s home the next day in the morning, to check if they had really missed a hex bag or any other clue that could help their case.

He had found sulfur residue near the back door.

So, they don’t only had a witch on the loose, scattering their hex bags anywhere and everywhere, but also a demon in their hands. Just perfect.

But that wasn’t the whole reason Dean was fuming as he drove the Impala to the police station, Sam riding shotgun as always. No, Dean was fuming because of what Millie and Anne had said about what had happened the night before.

 

* * *

 

“Why can’t we go see the nymph?” Anne asked, tugging at her mothers skirt. “I want to braid her hair. It was so long. Like Rapunzel’s!”

“Because she did a bad thing, Anne.” Mrs Swanson answered, certainly not for the first time. “She came into our home without permission and made a mess of our living room.”

“It wasn’t her!” Millie jumped, offended. “It was the man with the black eyes! She fought him to protect us.” She turned to her little sister. “And she isn’t a nymph, Anne. She’s a slayer. Like Buffy!”

“She’s not like Buffy,” the little girl complained, narrowing her eyes at her big sister. “Buffy is pale and blonde. The nymph looked more like us, but with long—” Anne stretched the word as if to show just how long it was as she gestured with her arms for emphasis. “—black hair.”

“I just said she was like Buffy because of how she fought the black-eyed man.” Millie clarified. “And she’s not a nymph.”

“If she isn’t a nymph then why did she tell us the tree would keep us safe until mom and dad returned?” Anne said, smugly. “Buffy can’t talk with trees, but nymphs do. She was a nymph.” She marked each word, certain of her reasoning.

“What would you know? You are only six.” Millie retorted feeling a bit cornered. “And she didn’t speak to the tree,—”

“I heard her tell it to protect us!”

“—she gave us amulets. Just like the ones Buffy uses sometimes! Those were the ones that kept the bad guy away from us, not the tree.” Millie finished with a scoff.

“May I see them?” Sam intervened, kneeling on the floor to make himself less intimidating to the little girls. “The amulets?”

Not without having a silent conversation between them as they exchanged a look—Sam couldn’t help but to smile at that—both girls dug around the neck of their shirts before producing a leather string, three charms hanging from it, flanked by two knots so they stayed in place. Sam recognized the anti-possession symbol carved on an onyx piece and painted in silver at first glance. The other two were pieces of quartz polished as half spheres, one on each side of the anti-possession charm: one, made of brown smoky quartz; the other, of cat’s eye.

“You didn’t tell me that woman gave you anything,” Mrs Swanson said, giving both girls what could be considered a scolding look. “Give that to the agent, girls. It could be dangerous.”

“But she said we could keep them!” Millie and Anne complained at unison.

Sam assured their mother that those were safe for the kids to keep. She seemed unsure, but didn’t insist that her daughters took the necklaces off, giving a slight nod of acceptance that made the little girls grin in victory.

“Did she tell you anything?” Sam asked. “Her name, maybe?”

Both girls shook their head negative.

“Is she going to jail?” Millie asked. “If it’s because she came in without permission, we could tell the police we invited her.”

“That would be lying, Millie.” Her mother pointed. “And what do we say about lying?”

“That it’s bad, it hurts people and we shouldn’t do it.” The girl responded in a mumble, looking down with a pout. Then, she raised her head back up to look at her mother in the eyes, her expression serious.“But you also tell us we have to say ‘thank you’ when someone help us. She helped us, so we should go see her and thank her properly.”

“Yeah! Yeah! We have to go and thank her.” Anne jumped around. “Then I’ll ask her to let me braid her hair.”

Seeing the predicament she had gotten herself into, Mrs Swanson gave a pleading look at Sam, asking silently for help on how to solve the matter. She didn’t know if what her daughter’s were saying was true. She just knew that a pair of strangers had appeared in her home, almost destroyed her living room, and one of them had died over her broken coffee table. Even if it was true that that woman had saved her daughters, Mrs Swanson didn’t want her little ones so close to someone that could be a murderer.

“We have to keep investigating what happened yesterday.” Sam started telling the kids. “If she isn’t guilty, she’ll be free.”

“What if someone frames her?” Millie narrowed her eyes at Sam before fixing them on Dean. He stood away from them, listening the whole conversation with a frown that only seemed to deepen when the girl looked at him as if to accuse him. “Maybe someone wants her to be guilty and go to jail. I saw it happen on TV!”

After trying to appease the girl, the Winchesters left the house. Their next destination, the police station and that mysterious nymph-Buffy woman.

 

* * *

 

“First the hex bags, and now this.” Dean practically growled. “And you heard the girls’ description of the woman. It’s Seren, man. I’m telling you.”

“I’m not sure, Dean.” Sam sighed. “Seren wouldn’t go placing curses willy-nilly.”

“Her clients might.” Dean pointed out.

“And she can’t fight demons because of her pact, remember?” Sam said. “There must be something we are missing.”

“Maybe she didn’t really fight the demon,” Dean conjectured. “Maybe she just faked it before taking the kids as part of one of her ‘jobs’.”

“Now you sound like her brother.” Sam rolled his eyes, remembering Draco’s foul attitude after Seren practically rescued Julie.

“Yeah, because witches never kidnapped any children before.” Dean snarked. “Completely unheard of.”

“Should we check the autopsy first?” Sam tried to change the subject. “Maybe the dead man’s body has some clues that would help us understand—”

“Nope.” Dean cut him as he made a popping sound. “Stations’ cell first. Let’s see who is right.”

Sam couldn’t help but sigh as he leaned on the back of his seat, massaging the bridge of his nose. It had been supposed to be a relatively easy case, but it was taking them too much time.

And each day Dean had less of it to waste.

As soon as the Winchesters entered the police station, the detective in charge of the Swanson’s case went towards them. They could read in her face that she didn’t like the feds getting their noses in her town, much less her case, but she would collaborate. Without wasting time, the detective gave them a report of everything they had so far.

The autopsy had given them nothing to work with. It stated that the cause of the death had been a multiple organ failure, which made no sense. Having found the dead body over a broken table, one would suspect he would have died from a broken neck or a strong concussion on the head. But the forensic assured and reassured that all the bones were intact, and there wasn’t any internal bleeding that could have caused the collapse. That man had simply died for no apparent reason. As for his identity, they were still working on it, searching the database for dental or fingerprints matches.

The suspect they had arrested at the scene was held into custody, locked in one of the station’s cells. She had put no resistance at any point, but refused to say a word, ignoring everything any officer said to her. When they had searched her, she had had no weapons on her. No identification either, so they were working on finding that too.

“We need to talk to the suspect,” Dean practically demanded.

“To see if she’s really related to out case,” Sam was quick to add, seeing the annoyed look the detective sent Dean’s way for a second. “If she isn’t and this is just a bad lead and an unfortunate coincidence, we’ll leave.”

“Understood,” the woman gave them a curt nod. “Follow me, agents.”

The detective guided them to a hallway with six cells, three on each side. All were empty except the one at the back right, were a woman with a mess of long black hair sat on the cot, arms resting on her legs, slightly hunched, her head shaking back and forwards softly. She seemed to be nodding off.

After Dean assured the detective they got it from there, earning a bit of a glare in his direction from the woman before she turned back to her desk, both Winchesters strode, silently, the distance that separated them from the cell the suspect was in.

“I told you,” Dean bragged, jabbing his brother’s side with his elbow.

Indeed, Seren was the young woman sitting on the cell’s cot. Her eyes were closed as she kept nodding off, not having heard them enter the hallway it seemed. Her hair was loose, parted to a side almost hiding the left side of her face were a black eye was starting to show. There was a smear of blood near her nose, as if it had bled and she had tried to clean it with the back of her hand. She looked pale, making the dark purple shadows under her eyes more noticeable.

Sam was about to call for Seren’s name before Dean got ideas on how to wake her, when the young woman’s head jerked up, dark brown eyes open wide as they scanned her surroundings. It was the only indicator that she was confused as to where she was for just a moment. Then, her eyes fixed on them, expression neutral.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Seren said with a tired sigh, shaking her head softly in a negation motion.

“Good to see you too, prin—”

“Don’t you dare finish that, pretty boy.” Seren was quick to cut him, the harsh scowl she sent his way leaving no place for jokes even if her tone had been soft. “What are you lads doing here?”

“We are the ones that get to ask questions here,” Dean threw back with a smirk.

“Says who?” Seren retorted, head high and stare hard. She wouldn’t be intimidated.

Sam stopped Dean from answering to that. There was no point for them to keep bickering and it wasn’t the place for it either. Squaring his shoulders, he turned to Seren. Seeing his shift, her attention went to him and the look she gave him in that moment reminded Sam to when they had meet by chance at a random bar, back when they had been searching for her and Sirius. Seren’s guard was up at full force, her fight or flight instinct on max alert even though if she was behind bars.

For a moment, Sam wondered what had made her become like that in the time they hadn’t seen each other. But, as quickly as it had come, it was scratched from his mind. Whatever Seren had gotten involved with was none of his business, unless it could help archive his goal of saving Dean.

Just when Sam opened his mouth to ask what had happened at the Swanson’s home, he heard a ruckus from the hallway entrance. He recognized the detective’s voice, trying to persuade someone from going their way but without much results, considering she sounded closer by the second.

That’s when a man turned the corner to the cell’s hallway and went towards them with confident strides. He wore a crisp gray three piece suit, black briefcase in one of his hands. His short deep black hair was neatly combed back, not a strand out of place, perfectly groomed, just as his mustache and goatee. His narrowed sharp gray eyes seemed to want to burn holes on both Winchesters by the way he was looking at them.

“Sir!” The detective called once again after him. “If you insist on keeping this behavior I’ll have to arrest you for contempt.”

Without batting an eye, and almost as if it was a magic trick, the man made appear a business card from his chest pocket, and handed it to the detective without taking his eyes from the brothers, still glaring daggers at them even if only his eyes showed the animosity.

“Anthony Williams, lawyer.” He said as a form of introduction, a business smile on his lips. “Miss Seren Summers is one of my clients and, next time, I would prefer to be called when my client is gonna be interrogated, instead of having to hear about it throught the town’s gossip.”

“We didn’t even know who she was until now,” the detective started. “And she… She didn’t even _ask_ for a lawyer. How would we—”

“Nobody told me my rights,” Seren shrugged. “I just knew everything I said could be used against me from TV shows and movies. Couldn’t remember when was the right time to ask for my lawyer.”

The detective went pale before her face turned red with anger. A pair of officers had some explaining to do. It was freaking protocol to read the suspect their rights.

“We’ll take care of this,” Dean indicated the woman, not taking his eyes off of the newcomer.

The detective nodded before stomping her way out. They could hear her call the names of the officers that had arrested Seren before all eyes went to Anthony.

“What are the charges, _agents_?” By the way he had said their title, the Winchester knew Anthony didn’t buy their cover. Since he knew Seren it wasn’t much of a surprise.

“She was found on the crime scene near the—”

“Breaking and entering, murder, and kidnapping attempt.” Sam cut Dean, giving him a look that said he would handle that.

“Interesting,” Anthony smirked at them. “Let’s start with the kidnapping attempt charges, shall we?” He didn’t gave them time to say anything before he continued. “Both victims have declared that my client wasn’t trying to kidnap them, but to protect them from the actual kidnapper.

“That would lead us to the charges for murder. I didn’t have access to the autopsy report yet, but I would dare say that, if said report points at my client as the killer, it clearly would have been in self-defense, as she had become an obstacle in the kidnapper’s plan.”

Anthony spoke so fast that Dean had already lost track, looking to his little brother to see if he was able to follow. Sam’s expression was tense, the only way Dean had to know that they were against the ropes in some way.

Dean then looked at Seren, expecting to see a smug expression on her face at the whole situation. But he had assumed wrong. The young woman had crossed her legs, elbow resting on her knee as she propped her head on her hand, her cheek on her palm. Her dark eyes were narrowed in Anthony’s direction, brows furrowed in thought, but also as if she found his presence there more of an annoyance than something positive.

“I can’t negate the breaking and entering charges,” Anthony continued. “But considering the aforementioned refutation of the former ones, I believe any jury would consider breaking and entering to save those little girls a perfectly justified action. She’ll even pay for the damage caused to the Swanson’s furniture.” He made a little pause, but only to take some air before concluding. “Unless you have any evidence against miss Summers, I would like to take her out of that cell.”

The Winchester’s said nothing and Anthony made them leave before him, using what Dean called lawyer jargon. After the man went over some paperwork with the detective, she called one of the reprehended officers to go retrieve Seren from her cell.

And, just like that, Seren and Anthony left the station, not without the man saying goodbye to them with a smug expression on his face. Seren said nothing nor did even look back at the Winchesters.

 

* * *

 

“A lawyer!” Dean repeated, indignant, for the third time on their drive back to the motel. “That damn witch has a freaking lawyer? Where did she get one?” He gave a side glace at Sam, who merely shrugged. “Fake. It has to be a fake lawyer.”

“I’m afraid not, Dean.” Sam let out a breathy, defeated, laugh as he checked Anthony’s credentials on his computer. “Anthony Williams seem to be one of the top lawyers at his firm, which is one of the top league firms, by the way.”

Dean groaned, wanting to hit his head on the wheel in frustration, but having to keep driving. Luckily, he had a bottle of hunter’s helper in their room waiting for him to cheer him up a bit by swallowing his bad humor. He didn’t care that it was just lunch time.

Parking the Impala in its place on the motel’s parking lot, both brothers got out of the car and walked to their room, mentally preparing for a frustrating day of looking over their case until something made sense, or until there was another incident. Whichever happened first.

What they surely weren’t expecting was to get a text from a number they didn’t know, signed by a certain witch right before they went into their room. On it, Seren just stated a place and an hour to meet, and nothing else.

“Is she making fun of us now?” Dean wondered, flabbergasted. “Taunting us? I bet she just wants to met with us to gloat in our faces over going free thanks to her topnotch lawyer.”

“She could have done that in the text,” Sam noted. “Maybe she has something to tell us. Some information”

“She isn’t the sharing type.” Dean pointed. “There has to be something in it for her.”

“She didn’t look too happy when that Anthony appeared to the rescue. And she never had a problem to answer our— _my_ —questions, even if she did set some limits.”

“I’ll tell you what she has to say.” Dean continued, ignoring what Sam had said, rolling his eyes at his little brother before adding, trying to imitate Seren’s tone. “‘Bloody scram and don’t mess with my bloody hex bags ever again, lads!’”

It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes at Dean.

“Only one way to find out,” Sam shrugged, making Dean groan as they both walked back to the Impala.

They had a date with their ‘favorite’ witch.


	4. Chapter 18 — Team Up?

“How are you here?”

Those were the first words that left Seren’s mouth after Anthony had started his car to drive her to a nice restaurant for lunch, or so he had told her.

She was still tired from fighting the demon and trying to be awake while she was held under custody in the cell. Sometimes police stations couldn’t be trusted to be safe. She should take advantage of the ride and take a quick nap. Five minutes should be enough to keep her going a bit more, but her mind wouldn’t shut up about Anthony’s opportune appearance.

“I’m happy to see you too,” he laughed. He always found it funny how straightforward she could be and loved to mess with her. “I’ve been fine. Thanks for asking.”

Seren limited herself to frown at him with a pointed look, arms crossed before her chest as she sat sloppily on her seat, tempted to put her feet over the dashboard as she pouted if only to annoy him. Anthony’s presence always made her want to behave like a brat somehow.

“How are you here?” she repeated, marking each word.

“As I said, I was around when I heard—”

“Bullshit.”

“Did aunt Rosa allow you to say that?” Anthony said in awe, ignoring the way Seren flinched when he referred to the woman as ‘aunt’ and not ‘ _tía_ ’. She hated that. “I’m surprised she did.”

“One last time,” Seren almost growled, raising a finger to make her point. “How are you here?”

“Marcos was Nathan Swanson’s roommate in college. Became great friends there, in fact.” Anthony answered. “So Marcos called Nathan to meet for brunch to catch up. Or was it lunch? Can’t remember which.” Seren narrowed her eyes at him.“Anyway, Nathan said he couldn’t and told Marcos what had happened. Marcos told me. I went to get you. The end.”

“Bullshit.”

“Wanna call my hubby to confirm my alibi?” Anthony smirked, with a side glance at her to see the sliver of surprise in her face she couldn’t conceal. If they weren’t in a kind of argument she would have asked about it, so he decided to answer her unasked question anyway. “Marcos was the one to ask. I keep forgetting it’s legal in Spain for us to marry.” He laughed sheepishly. “Tied the knot about three weeks ago. Nothing fancy, even though Maria wore her pretties dress and went throwing flower petals all around us. ‘ _No es una boda de verdad si no hay_ _niña de las_ _flores,_ _Tony’_ , she said.” The man quoted with a petulant child like voice before chuckling. “Couldn’t wish for a better step-daughter, really. The other day,” He suddenly remembered, his voice sounding excited, face bright with a huge smile on it. “She called me dad in a slip. Poor kid became all embarrassed and I almost teared up. Marcos laughed at me, the idiot. God, I love him so much.”

“Congratulations and I’m truly happy for you, but you are changing the subject, Mr Lawyer.” Seren noted with a sigh and a small smile. With those news, she couldn’t stay mad at him, at least not so much. He may have too much energy in him though, and her, too little, but she could keep up with his game for a while. “I’ll try again, okay? How are you and Marcos—”

“Maria came too.”

“—and Maria,” Seren amended with a tired sigh. “In this town? And don’t tell me you came here, all the way from Madrid or New York, or wherever you are living now.” Seren added, sensing a new correction coming. “Just because Marcos wanted to catch up with an old friend.”

“Yes and no,” Anthony admitted, rather reluctantly. “We, Marcos and me, synced our vacations so we could go visit family and tell the good news. We’re living in Madrid, by the way, even if I keep my New York apartment. Maria and the English language don’t get along well to start with, and she didn’t want to leave her friends and her mom to come to the States.”

He kept rambling, giving her more details she didn’t ask for nor needed. He even started reminiscing how he had met Marcos when he took care of his divorce with his now ex-wife. Anthony had told her so many times that story Seren was surprised he hadn’t commissioned someone to write a cheesy romance book about it just to tell the whole world how he met the love of his life.

But Seren also knew that all his rambling was his way to try and distract her from the answer she was looking for. Too many years dealing with him for it to work now. She had become immune, so Seren picked his answer and dissected it, taking out the unnecessary, which left her with the fact that they were visiting family members, which none of them lived even close to the town they were in at the moment.

At least none of the ones that were settled, which left the nomads of the family. Seren was almost completely sure Marcos had none of that kind, and Anthony had two: _tía_ Rosa and his father.

_Tía_ Rosa was in California. Seren was sure of that because she had spent weeks trying to get in contact with her to ask about the stupid family lore, only to be sent to the woman’s voicemail over and over again. Until, one day, finally, Rosa called her back, saying that the sunlight and sea breeze of the Pacific had kept her too busy to answer the phone. Seren was sure that, by the tone Rosa had said that, the woman wasn’t talking about the actual sunshine and breeze, and Seren was double sure she didn’t want to know what it really meant. Ever.

So, after an hour of _tía_ Rosa narrating her last job, which involved a rich family trying to get the safe combination from a dead great-great-grandparent who only wanted to curse them all for interrupting his rest; another half an hour of Rosa complaining about her last heartbreak, before laughing at how her now ex was cursed for stealing from her before ditching her; and after another twenty minutes of the woman telling Seren off for not getting in touch with her as much as she should, to which Seren reminded her that she could be the one to call her dear _sobrina_ if she missed her so much, the girl could finally ask her questions, but not without Rosa commenting that Seren’s Spanish was starting to sound stiff and that she should speak it more often.

When _tía_ Rosa finally let her hung up—poor of the soul that hung up before Rosa allowed it—, Seren had had both ears red after switching the phone from one to the other, a bit of a headache, and some encouraging information, even if not much.

Rosa had told her about _Abuela_ Gallardo, who had had similar powers to the ones Seren had. _Abuela_ Gallardo had told Rosa once that, sometimes, specially in critical moments, her powers overtook her consciousness, making her go into a sort of trance, memory blank as a result of that, as the powers took care of the situation at hand, always following her wishes of helping and saving those around her.

That information fit perfectly with what had happened when Sirius had fell from the tree house. She could recalled perfectly him falling and how she hadn’t wasted a second to go to him while he cried. But, no matter how much she had tried to remember, the next memory was of the both of them laughing as they climbed back up to the tree house.

Maybe, her powers had felt that Sirius could only be saved if a fragment was given to him, if that even made sense. Seren was grateful nonetheless, but still wary that her powers could have its own consciousness, that they could take control over her body even if it wasn’t with harmful intentions. In an attempt put her own mind at ease, Seren had asked _tía_ Rosa if _Abuela_ Gallardo knew where their powers came from, their origin or something. But, if the old woman had ever found any information about that, she had kept it to herself and took it to the grave.

And Seren’s thoughts had gone off on a tangent.

To resume, _tía_ Rosa was in California getting tanned or whatever she might be doing there, of which Seren wanted to know nothing about.

Family member left: Anthony’s father.

“Is Espinoza in town?” Seren asked, her voice turning harsh without really meaning to.

That question cut the man’s rambling like a guillotine, filling the car with dread silence. That was an implicit ‘yes’. Anthony wouldn’t give her anything more so it couldn’t be used against him. He wasn’t a good lawyer for nothing.

“He’s here for business.” Seren stated, and the man didn’t negate it, meaning she was right again.

The young woman groaned, hands covering her eyes for a moment, not even flinching when she touched her bruised skin. She slid them up, caressing her forehead for a moment before dropping them to her lap, her hair now covering her face so Anthony couldn’t see the grimace she was making as she stared daggers though the windshield without actually looking at anything.

If Espinoza was in town, that explained why the Winchester had been just as suspiciously fast to get to her as Anthony had been. They surely had been investigating a case when her incident came up and had thought it was related. Maybe they still thought so.

“Please, say something.” Anthony asked, surely side glancing at her from time to time. “You can curse him. Just not literally, please. You know I have no problem with that, even if he—”

“The agents,” Seren cut as her fingers started to braid her hair over her left shoulder, her expression back to a mask of impassiveness. “Do you know who they are?”

“Hunters,” Anthony sneered the word.

“Yes, the Winchesters. They are—” Seren cut herself before saying ‘good’ as her mind brought to attention Dean’s constant glares. “—bearable. They are here for a case, not just because of what happened last night, and I’m quite sure their case is related to Espinoza’s business.”

Anthony stepped on the brake harsher than he had to at the red light. He turned to look at her, a plea in his eyes and his mouth half open, lower lip trembling slightly. Even if he didn’t say the words, Seren already knew what he wanted to ask of her: to keep the hunters way from his dad’s trail.

“Let me borrow your phone,” Seren signed in defeat.

She should practice saying ‘no’ a bit more often.

 

* * *

 

Sam and Dean arrived at the direction Seren had sent just in time. After parking the Impala and getting out of it in perfect sync, both brothers took a look around, searching for her.

“Did she set a meeting just to ditch us?” Dean said, making Sam roll his eyes at him, exasperated that he always had the same trail of thought.

A high pitched whistle got their attention, their stares landing on a man on the other side of the street, his gray suit and black hair still looking perfect.

Anthony waved at them, motioning for them to go where he was as he tapped with his knuckles on the glass of the car in front of him following a rhythm they didn’t catch. Like a secret code.

When the Winchester had crossed the street, one of the back doors of the car opened, and Seren stepped out of it, her long black hair messily braided over her left shoulder. She was rubbing her non-bruised eye as if she had been sleeping.

“Hey, lads.” Seren greeted them apathetically with a vague two-fingers salute before stifling a yawn. “Long time no see.”

“Cut the crap,” Dean groaned.

“Come on, agent.” Anthony teased, with a smirk, his arms crossed as he tapped one finger to the second. “Where are your manners?”

“He’s always like this, Anthony.” Seren said, stretching her arms over her head. “At this point, it’s one of his charms.”

“You find that charming, Seren?” the man teased, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Seren simply gave him her best deadpan expression before slapping his arm with the back of her hand, making him laugh as he rubbed the hit away.

“You should go,” Seren said to Anthony seeing as he was still standing beside her.

For a moment, it seemed that the lawyer would protest, but after a meaningful glance from Seren, he gave her a curt nod and got into his car, driving away from there.

“Your case.” She said flatly to the Winchesters, turning to stand right in front them. “I’m in.”

“Of course you are in,” Dean grumbled. “Because _you_ are our case.”

“Wrong,” Seren negated, shaking her head. “Not my hex bags.”

“Then how do you know our case has hex bags?” If Dean narrowed his eyes more at her, he would end up closing them completely. “We never mentioned the hex bags before, did we?”

“You are impossible, pretty boy.” Seeing as talking with Dean was as productive as talking to a wall—Seren didn’t know what she had expected—, she turned to Sam. “I’ll help you with this case and answer whatever question you might have about what happened last night.” She offered.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. They sure were completely lost with the stupid case and wanted some answers from Seren, but was it worth the cooperation? Dean suspected that she knew who was behind all the accidents, that she knew whoever-this-was personally, and that’s why she wanted in, to burden even more their already bothersome investigation.

But before the brothers could even decide on an answer, a loud noise echoed around the street. Looking at their surroundings, the three of them spotted a group of curious people peeking into what seemed to be a bookstore.

In a beat, the trio went to see what had happened.

Apparently, one of the bookshelves had collapsed, all it’s content falling over the clerk that had been making inventory around the shop. While the injured person tried to make sense of why he was surrounded by fallen books as he sat on the floor, his partner apologized to the clients for the inconvenience, asking them to leave until they put everything back in order again, and thanking them for their understanding as they exited.

The Winchesters sighed in relieve. For a moment they feared it had been another freaky accident by hex bag, but the bookshelf looked quite well-worn and old, its remaining lower shelves bent due the books’ weight.

When the boys turned to leave, something stopped Dean from taking another step away as he felt something tugging at his shirt, as if it had gotten stuck. Wondering what could it be, he looked down, seeing two fingers—Seren’s—pinching the fabric at the hem. Dean raised his gaze and gave her a questioning arched eyebrow.

But she wasn’t looking at him to see the gesture, her eyes fixed in the bookstore interior, while her other hand was tightly closed around her pendant.

That made the hunter stand on alert.

“Out,” he heard her say though her teeth.

The fingers holding his shirt trembled slightly as she gave a tentative and insistent tug towards the bookstore, unable to say anything more as a frown appeared on her face.

Dean was about to ask her what she meant, when a loud creak came from somewhere inside the store, startling everyone. That’s when he followed Seren’s stare to see on what she was concentrating so much, finding the whole ceiling filled with growing cracks that made him wonder how nobody had noticed them yet.

He turned to Seren again, only to see that she had gone slightly pale and paler by the moment. Small beads of sweat were appearing on her already sheen forehead. She sniffed, and Dean took notice of the drop of blood starting to slowly flow from her nose.

Whatever she might be doing to keep the ceiling in place, she wouldn’t be able to hold for much longer.

Quickly and with a curse, Dean grabbed Sam’s arm, motioning for him to move along, a silent exchange about the situation before the both of them went inside the bookstore.

As he went to pick up the still stunned man surrounded by books, Sam looked at the cracks over their heads, eye widening, before hastily getting him out of there while Dean had to practically carry the girl out of the place as she complained about being manhandled, demanding to know what was happening.

As soon as the four of them had stepped out of the place, the ceiling collapsed, a cloud of dust and sawdust filling the air. Some of it was carried away by the soft breeze of the day, while some settled around, like the deep silence that followed the rumble of debris. When the first shock passed, people started applauding the Winchesters’ heroism and quick thinking.

While Sam and Dean were being praised and thanked, Seren left the center of the commotion to go sit on a nearby bench, her legs barely keeping her standing the few steps she had to take to get there.

After recovering her breath and steadying it, she took out some tissues, the ones that had come with the burger to go that Anthony had bought her for lunch, and cleaned the trail of blood before stopping her nosebleed, leaning back her head and resting it on the backseat as comfortably as she could. In an attempt to keep the dizziness under control, Seren closed her eyes, still feeling as if the street around her was spinning even as she sat. White noise filled her ears, muffling the voices and other sounds around her.

This was the price she had to pay for overdoing it. Fighting a demon and holding a ceiling from collapsing in less than 24 hours wasn’t her smartest decision. In fact, she was using her powers more than usual and she was starting to be a bit reckless with the way she was testing her own stamina. Her limits. She knew it could be dangerous, she already knew that from previous experience, but she wasn’t sure it was even a bad thing to do anymore.

If she didn’t know the limits her own abilities, how could she ever say she had done all she could?

“You okay?” Seren heard Sam’s voice ask her, white noise almost gone.

She opened one of her eyes, finding his face looming over hers as he stood besides the bench. His hazel eyes appraised her appearance, his brows furrowed in a worried expression that almost made her smile. Maybe if she did, his frown would lessen a bit.

“Still standing,” she answered giving him a shaky thumbs up with her free hand while the other still held the bloodied tissue to her nose, earning a weird look from Sam. “Sort of. Figuratively, not literary.” She amended with a weak shrug. “My offer does though. Stand, I mean.”

“You trying to be funny?” Dean huffed, his arms crossed and arching an eyebrow her way, even if he did sound a bit amused. At least Seren heard no bitterness in his tone.

“It’s the exertion. Makes me giddy.” Seren chuckled, closing her eye as her vision doubled for a moment. “Your answer, lads?”

 

* * *

 

“Did you really fight the demon?” Sam asked.

When Seren could finally stand up on her own (Sam had offered to carry her or just help her walk, but she had refused), the three of them had gotten into the Impala and Dean drove them to the motel they were staying so Seren could check all the information they had gathered about the case.

As soon as Dean had opened the door, Sam had explained to her all the data they had gathered while Dean kept his distance, fetching a bottle of beer from the fridge. They had let her sturdy the notes silently, but Seren had felt their stares on her, waiting, until Sam broke the silence with his question.

“Yes,” she answered with a curt nod, her eyes fixed on the board they had set with the victims, times and places of the incidents. “Special case. Got permission.” She added, guessing Sam would ask about her Pact next.

“How convenient,” Dean mumbled around his beer.

“Not really.” Seren gave him a sardonic smile before going back to the board.

Dean huffed before taking a gulp.

Seren’s mind went back to the reunion she had had with her contractor. He had acted as if he hadn’t known that Blake had gotten out of Hell, but Seren could read him well enough to see that he was lying. His expression might had been relaxed, just as his body language in general. But there had been a spark of fury in his brown eyes, a wildfire, and she could read what it meant with just a glance: Blake had been clever enough to get away from his claws and that infuriated him. It sure had to be a big punch to his ego.

Better not to dig on the topic then, for her own good.

When she had told him about the diner incident, her contractor waved her worries away, saying that they got her covered. The other demons that had been there were from their side, he assured. That’s why they had only watched the whole exchange and done nothing when Seren had sent flying the demon waitress.

“Do not worry about that one,” he had said, taking a drink of the Craig she had ordered specially for him, a cruel smirk on his face when he added. “I’ve already taken good care of that one for you, poppet.”

He had also commented that, since Azazel’s—Yellow Eyes—death, demons had been divided in two factions: the ones still loyal to his boss, with whom Seren had the Pact; and the ones that still believed Azazel’s words.

He also dropped in the conversation that Azazel hadn’t been obliged to follow the Pact, yet he had done so to a T for unknown reasons, keeping his demons away from Seren all those years.

The man had let what was meant to be an unsettling silence fall between them as he tried to assess her reaction to that piece of information, expecting her to be shocked at the reveal. But Seren simply took note of it for later study, her expression neutral, just as it would have been if she already knew about it long ago, stirring her chocolate cup lazily with a tiny spoon.

Her contractor chuckled at her attitude before resuming the conversation, telling Seren what he had found that she wanted to know.

With Azazel gone, his minions saw no reason to keep following the Pact’s rules anymore, and Blake saw a golden opportunity to mess with her without putting himself on the line. In terms of servitude, he was still sworn to Seren’s contractor’s boss. That’s why the demon in front of her couldn’t go after Blake nor Blake against her directly. He would be obliterated or tossed to the deepest part of the pit, whichever was worst, if he disobeyed his master.

That’s why he was sending others to torment her in his name. As the Pact stated, the one doing the deed was the guilty part, not the one orchestrating it from the shadows.

Stupid fine print.

Seren shook her head slightly. All that demon talk was a matter for later. Now she had to see the pattern Espinoza’s client was following when using the hex bags they had brought from him. As soon as she saw it, she would be able to follow those same tracks back to the client. And, once the client was neutralized, the incidents would stop, which meant the Winchester’s would have no case anymore and would simply leave to wherever they had to go next without even knowing about Espinoza’s existence, much less his involvement.

If something happened to his father, Anthony wouldn’t forgive her, no matter how much she had tried to avoid it. She had to help solve this quickly, for there were no prizes for trying. She knew that too well.

“Here,” Seren pointed to the fifth accident. “There’s a change from here forward.”

“No, there’s not.” Dean grumbled. “It’s still random crap.”

“And you call yourself a hunter. Look at it, Dean!” Seren gave him a frustrated frown as she turned to face him, one hand on her hips while the other pointed at the board. “The first four incidents have in common that are close between themselves, both in area _and_ time. But, from the fifth forwards, it looks like they are more spaced out around town and the times change too, but all the victims are young women. At some point, the motive to place the curses changed.”

“She’s right.” Sam confirmed, as if he had just noticed it.

Dean rolled his eyes at him. Of course Sammy would agree with the witch he had an obvious crush on. What a surprise.

“Then what about the bookstore?” Dean pointed out. “Two victims there.”

“The boy was just collateral damage.” She affirmed, fully convinced. “You still have their phones, right?” Seren asked, turning to the younger Winchester. “Of the victims?”

“From the fifth forward?” Seren nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“I have a hunch,” she smirked at him.

Dean watched as the both of them started working, calling the victims all over again. Sam was the one speaking, since they already knew him, while Seren held a list of questions she had made with bullet points for Sam to ask depending on the answers the victim gave them as he took notes. After each call, they checked the notes they had taken, dismissing some of the questions, adding new ones, and reformulating others for the next call.

When they were finished, they exchanged satisfied smiles for their results before they went to celebrate their little discovery. Sam went for a high-five, while Seren went for a fist-bump. After an awkward moment, both of them decided to just let it be, lowering their hands, clearing their throats or coughing, and looking away, a bit ashamed. Both of them were blushing.

Dean wanted to scream into his pillow like there was no tomorrow.

“So, what did you find?” he asked instead, taking a sip of beer before going near them to check their notes.

For a moment he wondered if all those scribbles where really written in English. How could they understand them? Dean was about to ask, turning to look at them just in time to see them arguing about who should tell him their findings. Tired, Dean called his brother’s name.

“Seren’s hunch was right. The motive changed.” Sam said, his eyes sparkling a bit. “There’s a pattern for the first four incidents all centered in this area.” He drew a circle on the map. “And here—” He practically stabbed a block inside the circle with his pen. “—is where all the other victims met the bastard—”

“Hey!” Seren complained, a bit playfully, fake punching Sam in the arm.

“Sorry, sorry.” Sam laughed before correcting himself. “Here’s where the victims met the culprit.”

“Is that a bar?” Dean sure needed one at the moment. “Please, tell me it’s a bar.”

“No,” Seren answered a bit puzzled, head slightly tilted to a side. “It’s a nightclub.”

“At least they have drinks there.” Dean mumbled, a bit distracted before registering what Seren had just said. “Who goes around cursing at a freaking nightclub?” he wondered with an aggravated tone, royally tired of the whole case.

“Someone that doesn’t know how to deal with an ‘I’m not interested in you, sorry’ it seems.” Seren said crossing her arms and shifting her weight from one feet to the other. “That’s what all the victims remember when asked if something weird happened before their accidents. Some guy coming to them at the nightclub, trying to treat them to something or make conversation with them and getting too close. When rejected, he kept insisting until he made them feel so uncomfortable they left the place, but not before he took a hair from them. So the curse knew it’s objective.” Seren explained, seeing Dean’s confused expression at the hair part.

“Seriously? Cursing someone with a fatal accident just because they get rejected?” Dean shook his head. “That has to be a new low. And who is this guy? We have a description, don’t we?”

Sam and Seren shook their heads negative, both answering at the same time that the stroboscopic lights of the nightclub made it hard for the women to give them a clear description of the man. The both of them apologized for talking over the other, at the same time again, making them giggle (giggle!) at their synchronization. Dean felt the need to bash his head against the wall for a moment there.

“But I know how we can find him,” Seren said with a lopsided smirk.

“How?” Dean asked, eyes on the ceiling, wishing for the case to be over soon.

“The Swansons.” Seren nodded at their data on the boards. “All the other places where the incidents took place were open to public access, people coming and going all day. Anyone could have planted the hex bags without much trouble.

“Only the Swanson’s home is a private property. So, for our little culprit to place the hex bags, they had to let him in since the only breaking and entering the family reported was performed by yours truly.” She ended with a theatrical bow.

Sam laughed and Dean rolled his eyes at her, a bit good-naturedly for once.

“So, what’s your plan?” Dean asked, with a half smile.

“We go to the Swansons,” Sam stated with a nod. “Ask for who went into their house between Wednesday, when Margot went to the nightclub; and Friday, when she had the accident.” He pointed the timeline each time.

“Then,” Seren interceded. “We ambush the jerk and teach him how to accept rejection like a gentleman should.”

Her expression left crystal clear that that lesson she had in mind would be anything but kind if they let her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dying.  
> This case was supposed to be 2 chapters tops and I'm trying to write the 4th (and hopefully last) at the moment, begging for it to end there. It was just a few lines in my notes, how the hell did I end up writing so much?  
> After this there will be a kinda filler chapter to relax before going back to heavily Seren's backstory related chapters again.  
> And _then_ some canon episode retouch.  
> I'm trying not to cram too much of Seren's info, leaving breadcrumbs here and there, but I think I'm failing miserably and making it boring. This is a Supernatural fic after all!  
> Sorry, I'm kinda having a crisis and I like to rant when in crisis.  
> Thanks for bearing with me.  
> Love you.


	5. Chapter 19 — Work and Family Time

As soon as Sam, Dean and Seren had agreed to a base plan of action, the group went to the Swanson’s home to get the basic details of the suspect, like what did the guy look like, for starters. It would be difficult to find him when they only knew his hunting ground, as Dean had said, was a nightclub.

What they weren’t counting on was that the Swanson family would be having another visit at the time. The only sort of warning they had was the warm smile Mrs Swanson gave Seren when she saw her behind Sam and Dean before guiding the group to the living room.

“Hello, agents!” Anthony waved at them from the sofa before he got up, giving them an appraising sort of look, crossing his arms before his chest, puffing it slightly. “I hope you have been treating my little sister well.”

“Sister?” Dean echoed, looking between him and Seren, eyes wide.

Sam was more discreet with his reaction at the reveal.

“Half-sister,” Seren corrected with a sigh and a glare before quickly turning to Mrs and Mr Swanson, now that they both were present. “I’m sorry for—”

“Shush,” the woman cut her with a dismissive wave of her hand and a kind smile as she passed besides her to go sit with her husband. “Anthony already told us everything. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”

“Thank you for saving our daughters.” Mr Swanson nodded solemnly at her, holding his wife’s hand. “Although I would have preferred my grandma’s coffee table to survive the fight.” He joked. “This is why family heirlooms tend to be jewels and not furniture.”

Seren bit the inside of her cheek.

If only they knew.

If only they knew that Seren had been the cause their little girls had been in danger.

She was the reason the demon had attacked that house in particular.

Why? Because it had been her home fourteen years ago. The very same place where she had met Blake for the first time. The twisted thing had sent a demon to remind her of it, warning her that they would celebrate the anniversary of their first encounter with or without her there for it.

A chilling shiver had crawled all over Seren’s spine as the demon that delivered the message smoked out of the meatsuit he had possessed only to do so. Not without first making sure that the person was okay, Seren hurried to make a call. She almost didn’t have enough time to obtain her special permission to deal with the demon and get to the house in time.

Which reminded her that she should thank Dean, once again, for Camille’s engine upgrade. Maybe she should make a point card instead of thanking him each time. Once full, she would make something special for the hunter as a thanks.

But, in that moment, Seren only wanted to apologize to the family until she lost her voice, even if she would never tell them the reason why she insisted on taking the blame. She just wanted, needed, to let the guilt out of her chest. But the couple not only didn’t want her apologies, they gave her kind words which only made her feel worse, anchoring her guilt deep within her, heavy as lead.

They should be cursing her.

“Seren,” Anthony’s voice cut through her thoughts.

She felt his hands on her shoulders, making her wonder how he had appeared behind her in what, for her, had been just a blink. She should be more careful when spacing out. She should rest some more too. The nap she took in his car was not enough.

“May I formally introduce you to my dear husband, Marcos Romero Rodriguez.” Anthony made her move until she stood closer to the sofa he had been sitting on. “Marcos, my sister Seren.”

“Half-sister,” she corrected on automatic.

The man that had been sitting on the sofa got up a bit clumsily, nervously rearranging his clothes—an ensemble of brown pants, cream colored shirt and sleeveless reddish sweater—so they had as less wrinkles as possible.

Seren couldn’t help but to think that, if the coffee table had been in it’s place, he would have stumbled with it, even if he wasn’t that close to where it had been.

His brown hair was cut to a buzz, almost the same length as his full beard. He had light brown eyes, faint wrinkles already on their corners, thick eyebrows casting a shadow on them but that couldn’t hide the kindness reflected in his eyes, only darken their iris’ shade a bit.

When Marcos extended his hand at her for a handshake, she froze.

Anthony must have noticed, because his hands gave her shoulders what was meant to be an encouraging little squeeze.

Still unsure, Seren raised her eyes from the extended hand to Marco’s face. He smiled at her, a sort of compassion and understanding in his eyes. Surely Anthony had told him about her ability, that she might see into his mind with just a touch of her hand.

Did the gesture mean he didn’t mind? That he didn’t care?

Or was it a test?

Seren reminded herself that it was just a normal greeting. No test. Nothing of her sort.

Marcos gave her an almost imperceptible nod before smiling at her.

She had his permission.

Only then did Seren take his hand, still shaky and making sure the handshake was a short one so she glimpsed as little as possible. It would be worse if she wasn’t wearing her fingerless gloves.

“Seren Vaughan _._ Nice to meet you,” she greeted him with a slight nod and a smile to try and make him relax. He was even more nervous than he let see.

“Nice to meet you too,” Marcos nodded back, visible relieved, his smile widening before asking. “So are you my sister-in-law or my _half_ -sister-in-law?”

Seren couldn’t help but to laugh at that, assuring him that sister-in-law would be fine for her. That made Anthony protest, swaying her from side to side by her shoulders as some sort of punishment, calling her mean as he complained that he was treated as half related after all the years they knew each other, while his husband had been properly recognized on their first meeting.

A harsh coughing cut the scene, making all eyes go to Dean.

“We are here for work,” he said, putting special emphasis on the last word, as he gave Seren a hard look. “Not family reunions. So—”

“Nymph!” Came a high pitched scream.

Dean rolled his eyes so much as he muttered a curse, that Sam thought they would get stuck like that for a while.

Of course the girls of the house would appear right in that moment with little Anne at the head, already by Seren’s side, bouncing on her toes due the excitement. She was followed by her big sister and another girl, older than them both, who preferred to wait by the threshold to the living room until the adults gave them permission, not wanting to intrude.

Seren’s attention went to the little girl she hadn’t seen before. Even if her hair was a fairer shade of brown, and her face was dusted with freckles that formed a line under her eyes, one could tell with just one look that she was Marcos’ daughter.

“Can I braid your hair, please?” Anne asked Seren, tugging at her shirt’s hem to get her attention, still bouncing on her toes.

“Weren’t you supposed to thank her first, Anne?” Mrs Swanson teased her daughter.

The little girl nodded, “Can I braid your hair as thanks for saving us?”

There was a general chuckle at Anne’s cheekiness, her parents shaking their heads in resignation. If she was like this at her age, they weren’t prepared to face her when she became a teen. Even almost a decade wouldn’t be enough, they feared.

“Sorry, but I’m here for work.” Seren apologized, echoing Dean’s words as she crouched so her face was closer to Anne’s. “Boring grown-up stuff.” She added before the girl asked, making sure to remark how boring it would be by rolling her eyes and making a face for emphasis.

“Please?” the little girl insisted with a pout as method of persuasion. She surely had almost mastered it.

“Maybe another time. Okay? Cross my heart,” Seren made the motion as she stood up to her full height.

“Okay,” Anne accepted reluctantly, kicking the air with an angry pout.

“But before we start with all the boring grown-up stuff,” Anthony cut, placing his hands on Seren’s shoulders again, earning himself a little glare as he turned her to face the living room’s threshold. “Maria?” He motioned for the girl to come closer to them.

Unsure, she looked at her dad, who gave her a big smile and an encouraging nod, before going to stand right before Seren, leaving two feet between them. She looked even more nervous to meet her than Marcos had been, her hands fidgeting in front of her.

“Maria, _te presento a mi hermana_ Seren.” Anthony introduced.

“ _Medio hermana_ ,” Seren corrected. Maria’s eyes widened in surprise, as if she hadn’t expected for her to speak Spanish or, at least, not so naturally. Seren gave her her best smile. “ _Encantada de conocerte_ _,_ Maria.”

Seren lowered herself to the girls height, and subtly offered her right cheek for a two-kiss kind of greeting, just like the kind _tía_ Rosa greeted her with, trying to make Maria feel more comfortable with a familiar custom. Her little eyes brightened a bit at the gesture, stepping closer so they could exchange a pair of quick and light felt kisses, one for each cheek. When she stepped back, Maria seemed more at ease, a shy smile on her face.

“ _Igualmente_ _,_ ” the girl said before worrying on her lower lip thinking about something. Then, decided, she fixed her eyes on Seren’s and asked. “ _¿_ _Qué es lo que te preguntó_ Anne _antes_ _?_ _Me dijo lo mismo hace un rato,_ _pero_ _no_ _lo entiendo_ _._ ”

“ _Oh, cielo._ ” Anthony cooed.

“ _No me llames cielo_ _,_ Tony.” Maria glared at him. “ _Y se lo estoy preguntando a_ Seren _, no a ti_.”

Seren laughed as Maria stuck her tongue at Anthony while he hid behind Seren’s back, adjusting her position so she stood between his step-daughter and himself.

Bit shy, yet fierce.

Seren already liked her.

Stealing a quick glance at the Winchester’s, both starting to look anguished for so much precious time wasted, Seren quickly translated what Anne had asked.

Maria’s face lightened in realization and at the idea of having her hair braided. But it was short lived, her face scrunching up in annoyance as she muttered something about how she would fail her English classes again.

Seeing Maria’s distress, even if they didn’t know what had caused it, both Millie and Anne went quickly to her. Each one of them took hold of one of Maria’s hands, pointing at the stairs that led to their rooms, and repeating the word ‘play’ over and over, both in English and in clumsy, mispronounced Spanish, trying to distract her and cheer her up.

At that, Maria laughed and let them take her back to their room to resume playing. Seren even heard her trying her best to ask Anne to braid her hair. A happy squeal from the little girl was enough to indicate she had understood her foreign friend and her clumsy English.

“I’ll go watch over them and act as translator if needed,” Marcos offered, kissing Anthony’s cheek as he passed him. “Call me if you need me.”

“I always need you,” Anthony responded with an exaggerated longing look.

Mrs Swanson let out a ‘aww’ looking between the two lovebirds before exchanging a look and a giggle with her husband, who surely would tease his college friend later over his cheesy husband.

Marcos shook his head incredulously, laughing wholeheartedly and calling Anthony silly, planting another kiss on his cheek before going upstairs, following the girl’s voices and laughs.

Anthony sighed as he watched his husband go, hugging Seren, trapping her arms at her sides tightly as he did so—just to bother her—, and resting his head on one of her shoulders.

“Isn’t my little family just perfect?” the man sighed dreamily.

“That was so sickly sweet I’m sure I have cavities now.” Seren deadpanned. “Me, Tony. Someone who can’t pass six hours without having candy and had never had one.” She remarked mockingly, jabbing the man softly with her elbow so he let go of her. “But, yeah, they are great. Marcos seems nice and Maria is cute. How did you get so lucky?”

“I don’t even know myself!” He admitted with a flabbergasted expression that made the Swanson couple laugh. “By now I’m too scared to ask. And don’t you dare jinx it, little sister” He joked, jabbing her back playfully with a smirk and a wink. “I knew you would think my step-daughter is the cutest. Her angelic face hit you right in your weak spot.”

“Weak spot?” Dean, who had been looking at the ceiling the whole time, seemed suddenly interested in the topic, his eyes fixing on Anthony in a snap.

Of course the hunter would want to know any of her weakness.

“Like you don’t know it already,” Anthony scoffed, turning to face the Winchester, arms crossed a bit defensively.

Dean gave him a blank look in response.

“Wait. You really don’t know?” the lawyer gave him a baffled look.

“Anthony,” Seren warned, but it fell on deaf ears.

“She has a soft spot for people with freckles,” he said. “You really didn’t know?” Anthony insisted, motioning to exhibit A, Dean’s freckled face. “You?”

“Between this Wednesday and Friday, who came into your house?” Seren practically shot at Mrs and Mr Swanson in her hastiness to change the course of the conversation as soon as possible.

Caught off guard, the couple stared at her wide eyed, trying to recover from the whiplash of the sudden change of topic and understand what she had just asked. Seeing as they were unable to do so on their own, Mr and Mrs Swanson exchanged a look between themselves.

Seren took her chance to glare at Anthony who, finally, had realized he had talked too much, mouthing an apology her way and trying to give her a puppy look to show how sorry he was.

If Seren had really hired him as her lawyer, he would be fired for revealing confident information. She would even make him pay her a compensation for damages.

“This is about the hex bags, right?” asked Mrs Swanson, and Seren gave her a nod. “We had some visitors, but I assure you none of them had enough time to put so many of those _things_ around. Much less on the upper-floor.”

Seren felt her eyelid twitch due the tension, but was sure her expression betrayed nothing when she turned to the Winchester’s for details.

As far as she knew, it seemed they had skipped to add some information on their board, and she definitely didn’t appreciate it. She could understand that they had destroyed the hex bags as soon as they had found them in every crime scene, even the one at the bookstore. The curses could have been a one-use-only or have a continuous effect, and the boys couldn’t risk it. She could swallow her bitterness over being unable to study Espinoza’s work, but she could not pass over the fact that Sam and Dean had forgotten to tell her that this house had been rigged with them.

Just when she was about to send her theory that the Swanson’s could identify the culprit down the sewer, Seren realized were the confusion might be. Stifling a frustrated groan, she closed her eyes tightly as she massaged the bridge of her nose, angry at her own stupidity and wincing when she touched too close of her black eye.

“Let me guess,” she started, speaking to Sam and Dean, eyes still closed. “There were, at least, one hex bag per room.”

Sam nodded slowly, trying to guess where she was getting to.

“How did you—” Dean wondered, about to accuse her once more, surely, but Seren ignored him, going towards the door that led to the backyard. “Hey!”

He made sure to follow her close until she climbed the tree to reach the house built on its branches. Dean called for her as Sam stood beside him, Anthony close by. The Swansons opted to wait by the door, trying to understand what was going on.

Just when Dean was about to climb the tree himself to get her, Seren jumped down, falling and making a somersault before landing in a crouch, knee resting on the ground, right in front of him.

“Did some of the hex bags look like this one?” the young woman asked as she stood up, holding said item practically in front of Dean’s face for him and his brother to see.

“Most of them,” Sam answered, with a nod, eyes open in awe at her performance and a bit curious as to how she new that one would be there.

“These weren’t the problem. Too old. Too death. Wrong kind.” Seren said quickly, words almost mixing, before they could ask any questions. “Which rooms had more than one?”

“Living room, kitchen and studio.” Sam answered swiftly.

Seren nodded at him before turning to the Swanson, “Who came into your house between Wednesday and Friday and had access to those rooms?”

After exchanging a worried look, the couple started naming people.

Ms Robertson came often for afternoon snack. Thursday’s Lecture Club group. Some of Mr Swanson coworkers that had helped with some urgent documents that Wednesday. And the pair of workers that had delivered and mounted some pieces of furniture on Friday’s morning, few hours before Margot’s accident.

As soon as Mr Swanson mentioned the new furniture, Sam jumped in, asking which pieces had been bought in that day. Just as he had suspected, there had been three: a bookshelf for the living room, a new desk for the studio, and a cupboard for the kitchen. Those were exactly the places where they had found the three hex bags that were different to the one Seren still held in her hands.

“I told you we should have just mounted them ourselves, Nathan.” Mrs Swanson reproached her husband, crossing her arms as he gave her a sheepish look.

 

* * *

 

“What took you so long?” Dean barked as he opened the door of their motel room for Seren to enter.

They had parted ways when they left the Swanson’s home. Sam and Dean had gone back to the motel while Seren left with Anthony to go retrieve Camille, while Marcos and Maria stayed a bit more at the Swanson’s.

That had been four hours ago.

“Oh. Did you miss me that much, pretty boy?” she cooed sarcastically, dropping a messenger bag on one of the chairs at the table. “I think I told you it would take me some time to prepare a few things, rest a bit, and then get here.”

“She did,” Sam corroborated dryly, typing on his laptop. He had been hearing Dean’s complains as background noise for the last three hours or so. “And she didn’t set a specific time because she didn’t know how much it would take her,” He added, ignoring the glare Dean sent his way. “But that she would be here on time, which she is.”

“Thanks, Sam. Want some candy?” Seren offered, producing a handful from one of her bags’ compartments.

The younger Winchester accepted the treat if only to annoy a bit more with his older brother as payback for hearing his constant rant.

“Great. Now, let’s do this.” Seren clapped her hands before reviewing what they knew and the plan they had so far.

The three of them would go to the nightclub and look for a young man a bit older than Dean, but with similar general complexion and hair style, even if not as handsome, as what Mrs Swanson had put it. Their suspect was shorter in comparison to the hunter too, not more than 5’9” of height, and his hair a shade of dark brown instead of dirty blond. He also had a cut on his right eyebrow. Also, no freckles but a mole on a side of his nose—Ms Swanson couldn’t remember which.

They had his descriptions. The problem now was how to get him.

“You are gonna be bait and scan his mind.” Dean sentenced, pointing at Seren. “Put your little sensing ability to good use, little witch.” He added mockingly, raising his hands and moving his finger so she got his point.

Seren didn’t need the pantomime to know what he had meant. And she definitely didn’t appreciate his new nickname—even if it could have been worse—so she threw a lemon flavored hard candy at him.

Dean tried to catch it in the air, but failed miserably, the projectile hitting him right in the middle of his forehead. Seren burst out laughing at his confused expression, eyes crossed as he had followed the candy’s trajectory, and started making fun of his ‘ninja reflex’. Dean complained, his eyes glowering at her before retaliating by picking up the candy and throwing it back at her, hitting her on the tip of her nose, surprising even himself. Now it was Seren the one complaining as she rubbed the hit away while Dean laughed.

“Kids, behave.” Sam scolded them with a tired sigh, adding before any of them could protest. “I don’t care who started it.”

“For the record,”Seren popped a cherry flavored candy in her mouth, making a loud crunching noise as she bit it. “I don’t think me being bait is a good idea.”

“And why not, prin—” Another candy hit Dean’s head, harder than the first. “Will you stop with that?”

“Will you?” Seren retorted, scowling at him. “And I will not be a good bait when a pair of guys are keeping a constant eye on me, one of them with a permanent glare my way.” She motioned at Dean’s general direction, not looking at him as she rummaged around in her bag. “You’ll make it look as if we were exes, pretty boy. Like we broke up and you haven’t gotten over me yet, ready to pick a fight with whoever dares to hit on me.”

Dean gave her an incredulous and affronted look while Sam coughed awkwardly to hide a laugh. She wasn’t wrong about that, he thought. Dean did seem like a jealous, resentful ex. Even Sam had thought so—that they had had a thing—seeing how his brother behaved around and towards Seren. So her argument against her being bait wasn’t as ridiculous as Dean seemed to think.

“Also, in case you didn’t notice, I kinda look like the dead today.” Seren laughed, remembering how she had scared herself when she caught her own reflection on the rear-view mirror. “I could cake myself with makeup, but it can do so much. And we aren’t even sure the guy is gonna show up!” she pointed out, her tone a note higher in realization. “Maybe he doesn’t feel like partying tonight. I surely don’t.”

“So what?” Dean snapped, raising his hands and letting them fall again as he scowled at her “We wait, sitting around, until Monday and make a little visit to his workplace to get his info? That’s what you’re saying?”

“We could always sneak in the delivery company and check their personnel’s files.” Sam pointed with a shrug, trying to cut the argument short before it really started. “It can’t be that hard.”

But he was completely ignored by his brother.

“Are you trying to buy time for this guy or something?” Dean insisted, giving Seren a suspicious look.

“If I did, I would be catching some more sleep, pretty boy, instead of being here or even bothering to making these.” Seren threw each brother a five strand braided bracelet made of leather and some colored thick cords. “Didn’t have the time nor the energy to make anything better, but this should give you some protection against whatever magic trick the guy might use. A precaution of sorts.” She was quick to explain. “If it breaks, it’s done for and you are on your own. So be careful.”

“It smells funny,” Dean said taking the bracelet to his nose and sniffing it before turning to Sam. “Does yours smell funny too?”

What was funny was the look Sam gave his brother, caught mid attempt of tying his bracelet around his left wrist, using his right hand and his mouth to do so.

Dean grimaced as he stared at Sam, waiting to see some kind of side effect as he kept sniffing his bracelet, trying to guess what that smell could be.

“For the last time, pretty boy.” Seren sighed, keeping herself calm by massaging where her neck and her shoulders met with both of her hands, one on each side. She was too tired to argue all night with Dean. “I’m trying to help you, not sabotage you. If you want me out, just say so and I’ll just go my merry way.”

She really could.

Seeing all the information the boys had, they would only find and stop the man placing the hex bags. Nothing pointed to Anthony’s father in any way. And, even if the culprit told the Winchesters that he didn’t make the hex bags himself, that he had bought them or commissioned them, she doubted the Winchesters would search for the source. Maybe Dean would be tempted to do so, but Seren could see that Sam just wanted to be over this case as soon as possible and continue with his quest to save his brother from going to hell.

She had assured Anthony as much when he had given her the ride to go get Camille. Seren hadn’t really needed the ride, but it had been as good of an excuse as any other for them to be alone so she could update him on the case.

And, thinking carefully about it—which she hadn’t done before, it seemed—it was Espinoza they were talking about. That man was nothing but resourceful. He had been in the business practically all his damned life, for crying out loud. There was just no reason for Anthony to worry about his father’s safety. As if he didn’t know the man.

Espinoza didn’t need nobody to hide his tracks from any kind of foe he may had made along his way on life, or that simply came his way. The man always had a backup plan. Covering every flank. Every possibility. For and from anything.

If someone ever thought to have found some crack on any of his works, some way around them, some kind of crack or weak point, they better check twice, or even thrice. Most probably it wasn’t there by sheer chance. Because Espinoza didn’t believe in it.

He believed in making his own, and that’s just what he always did.

_Nothing personal,_ chica _. Just business._

“So?” Seren prompted with a resigned sigh, crossing her arms as she faced Dean, her expression completely blank even if her shoulders were slightly slumped. “Should I go or should I stay? Your call, pretty boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've run out of finished chapters. Writer's block is on full force. I feel burnout and a bit frustrated because of it.  
> I see two options:  
> -Change updates to a chapter every two weeks, hoping that the writer's block lets me keep it like that until (hopefully) it's gone.  
> -Go into undefined hiatus, fight the block, and come back when I have enough chapters so it can be weekly again and still have some leeway to keep writing without pressure.  
> Since I don't like hiatus myself (both as a reader and a writer), I'll give the chapter-every-two-weeks a try.  
> Wish me luck.


	6. Chapter 20 — Night out and a Deadly Curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the longest I've writen so far.  
> I could have divided it into two. I was tempted to do so if just to have more time to write the next chapter (still halfway through it, sadly). But I really wanted to get this part over with since it drained me more than it should have.  
> Turned out way better than I expected though, since I had more time between updates to edit and polish some parts here and there.  
> Hope you like it.

>  ” _So? Should I go or should I stay? Your call, pretty boy.”_

Dean held Seren’s impassive stare, trying to read her. To understand what could have changed since she practically demanded to be in this case to that very moment. What could have made her go from that to seeming as if she couldn’t care less what happened next?

No answer came to Dean’s mind. Completely blank.

Then, he remembered what she had offered along with her help.

“You stay right were you are.” He said pointing at her with a slight frown. “We still have some questions for you. About last night, remember?” He recalled the old hex bags and how she had known where one of them was. “Between other things. Also, you are our bait to catch the creep, remember?”

“If you don’t mind,” Sam added in an attempt to tone down Dean’s assertiveness.

“So long as he behaves,” Seren said to Sam with a shrug and vaguely pointing at his brother. “And puts the bracelet on.” She turned to Dean. “The ‘funny smell’ is just some incense infused on the cords. For protection. And maybe the leather itself. It always smells kind of funny to me.”

Dean huffed before sniffing the bracelet once again, trying to distinguish the scents she had just described, still suspicious of the item.

“If you are not gonna use it, give it back.” Seren walked to stand before him, safe distance between them, and extended her hand so he returned the accessory. “I only could make those two. You don’t want it, I’ll use it.”

Dean made to give it back.

“I guess you don’t care that, if our suspect tries to curse us, you’ll be the only one without protection, which would mean you’ll be the only one affected by it.” Dean stilled at Seren’s words. “I must warn you though. The most common type of curses are the ones that affect… private parts.” Seren added, looking away and scratching her cheek.

As soon those last words left Seren’s lips, Dean held the bracelet to his chest as if daring her to rip it from his hands, a horrified expression on his face. Sam couldn’t help but to smile, muffling a laugh, while Dean tied the trinket begrudgingly around his wrist, mumbling curses to himself and stating, over and over, how much he hated witches and anything witch related.

Seeing as that discussion was over, Seren went to check how Sam was doing with his task of mapping the nightclub layout before they were actually inside, using the photos on it’s website as reference to know where everything was. It would be enough to get a general idea at least. That way, Seren would know where the best spot would be to stand out thanks to the lights, hopefully drawing their suspect’s attention to herself while the brothers stayed somewhere more obscure from where they could observe her without being noticed.

“Is that true?” Sam whispered once she was close enough so Dean didn’t hear them. “About the curses?”

“They are the most common.” Seren nodded, serious before a shy lopsided smile appeared on her lips. She looked even a bit sheepish when she added, “But I don’t think our man has them in his repertoire.”

“You tricked Dean,” Sam whispered, smirking her way. “So he would wear the protective bracelet.”

“I just gave him a piece of information I thought he might find interesting.” Seren shrugged, picking up the sketch Sam had made of the nightclub’s layout and examined it, reviewing his notes and adding some of her own to it.

“Thank you.” Sam said softly, giving her a kind look.

“What for?” she seemed truly puzzled by his gratitude.

Sam shook his head, a bright smile on his face, which only confused her a bit more.

 

* * *

 

“Hurry up!” Dean shouted, knocking on the bathroom’s door. Seren was inside, getting herself ready. “It’s already past ten.”

“The nightclub opens at half past eleven, Dean.” Sam commented, checking the website just in case he had seen it wrong. “Yeah, half past eleven.”

Dean sent him a look and Sam raised his hands in defeat. The older Winchesters resumed hurrying Seren to get ready, knocking on the door over and over.

“Look, pretty boy.” Came the young woman’s voice from inside the bathroom, her irritation crystal clear on the tightness of her tone. “If you want me to be bait, I gotta look the part, and that takes quite some time on it’s own for you to keep on bothering me!” She screamed back. “So do all of us a favor and go for a bloody walk or something. Would you?”

Dean made fun of her complain and suggestion, echoing her words in an unintelligible mumble as he paced the room like a caged animal before sitting on his bed, one of his legs bouncing. Then, he got up with a groan, about to go knock on the door once again, but thought better of it, resuming his pacing before sitting once more. He had gotten himself in a restless loop and seemed unable to get out of it on his own.

After a few repetitions, the thought of tying his brother up so he would stay still popped on Sam’s mind. Even if it would only be for a few minutes and he would have to hear Dean’s complains then, the idea looked better by the second.

Just as Sam pondered if it would be too much to gag Dean too so he didn’t hear his complains, the bathroom door opened, getting the brother’s attention, both relieved on their own way and for their own reasons.

“Would this be enough, lads?” Seren asked, arms slightly extended to her sides so they could check her appearance. “Only constructive criticism will be taken into account.” She added, voice almost robotic, with a deadpan look at Dean.

But both Winchesters were rendered speechless. An awed smile appeared shyly on Sam’s face, while Dean seemed to need a double take, blinking profusely, incredulous at what he was seeing.

First, Sam and Dean took in her outfit. Seren was wearing a sleeveless black shirt with a turtle neck over which she wore her moon pendant, it’s silvery color a good contrast with the black underneath it. She was wearing the shirt tucked in a pair of high-waisted black shorts, a braided leather belt with a decorative silver buckle accentuating her figure. As footwear, she had chosen her high boots, the ones that seemed a sensible hybrid between high heels and combat boots.

She was still wearing her fingerless leather gloves.

“I’ll take then off when we get on site,” she assured them, fidgeting a bit with the hem of the gloves, adjusting them on her hands even if there was no need to.

None of the brother’s made any comment about it, only acknowledged her words with a slight nod as they finished checking her new look.

Seren had tied her hair on a french plait braid, pure Lara Croft’s style. Her face looked fresh, lively, no trace of her black eye nor dark circles, all well hidden under heavy foundation while the smokey eyes took care of anything that might have looked off. She had put on eyeliner, sharpening her eyes in a daring way. Her lips were painted a deep red, the lower one looking slightly more shinny than the upper one.

“I would like some feedback, lads.” Seren said, starting to feel nervous as they kept looking at her in silence. “Will this be enough to get our guy’s attention or not?”

“Definitely,” both Sam and Dean answered at the same time.

Sam kept smiling at her, giving her a reassuring nod. Seren smiled back at him, wondering out loud if she should accessorize a bit more, to be more flashy and make sure she got their guy’s attention.

“It won’t hurt,” Sam assured.

Dean was still in shock for a bit more, ogling her while she rummaged in her bag taking out some jewelry and showing it to Sam, asking for his opinion. When Dean finally caught himself observing Seren as if hypnotized, he shook his head, making a weirded out face for a moment at his own behavior.

“Good,” he said, clapping his hands and clearing his throat softly, trying to get rid of the awkwardness he felt. “Now that her majesty is ready, we can finally get going.”

He walked to the door, followed by Sam, and was about to open it to leave when Seren called for them. Dean turned, holding back a groan, only to find Seren facing them with her arms crossed, a judging look on her face as she tapped the floor with one of her feet.

“You are not wearing that—” She motioned at both brother’s current clothes. “—to the nightclub. Are you, lads?”

Sam gave her a confused look, before checking his usual assemble of shirt, plaid and jeans. Dean’s wasn’t much different, only his leather jacket to add to the combo.

“And why not?” Dean grumbled, crossing his arms to mirror her as he rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong with our clothes? You were wearing a zipped hoodie at least two sizes bigger a while ago. I think that’s worse.”

“First of all, as you can see, I’m not wearing it to the nightclub, pretty boy.” Seren rolled her eyes back at him. “And, as you’ve so kindly pointed out before, I’ve spent an eternity getting all painted like a bloody canvas to look like this.” She motioned to her whole face with her hand.

“That’s because you are the bait,” Dean retorted. “Deal with it.”

Seren sighed, almost rubbing her tired eyes, stopping herself mid motion when she remembered the other reason her eyelid seemed heavier than usual, apart of her lack of rest. If she messed her makeup, she would be forced to clean everything and do it all over again—patching it up would only make it worse—, which meant she would have to hear Dean lose his bloody mind just because he had to wait for her to get ready. Again.

“Have you seen the photos on the club’s site, pretty boy?” She motioned at the laptop screen. “It’s a fancy nightclub, not a Midwest bar. The bouncer won’t let you in if you go dressed like that, which means only I will be in there to catch our guy.”

There was a tense pause, before the Winchester exchanged a look.

“She’s right,” Sam recognized a bit reluctantly, shrugging at his brother. “Suggestions?” He turned to look at her with a sheepish smile yet there was what Seren thought could be a hint of a daring look.

“The fed ensemble.” Seren answered in a heartbeat. There was a small pause before she started giving instructions, the words leaving her lips even faster than her first answer had been. “Lose the tie. Jacket optional. Button up all the way except the last two or three buttons at the top. More if you wear a shirt underneath, but not more than halfway. No design, just color. Skip the white. The shirts are already white.” She stopped, thinking, head slightly tilted to a side. “Unless you have other button up shirts, that’s it.”

A burgundy or plum shade would look nice on any of them. Those colors would bring out their eyes, her mind suggested, remembering the tips on the fashion magazines Erin had read her when in high-school. How she had recalled that information was beyond her.

But she didn’t articulate the thought. Seren doubted Sam nor Dean needed any help to get people’s attention with their looks, and their task for this mission was to go as unnoticed as possible.

“That should do the trick” She nodded, eyes closed as she imagined the assemble. “Simple yet fancy. Enough to get you in at least.”

“Seems easy,” Sam accepted, taking off his flannel before picking his fed suit, making sure it wasn’t wrinkled.

Dean grumbled, annoyed that he had to dress up as he too got his fed clothes ready, glaring at Seren in between as he muttered something unintelligible.

It made Sam scoff, knowing that his brother had been over having to dress up for cases long ago. Then Seren said Dean had to just do so, and it was like she had asked for him to make some sort of humiliating and bothersome task of sorts. He sure loved nitpicking at her every suggestion.

“Are you gonna stand there while we change, you perv?” Dean snapped at the young woman.

Seren had been leaning besides the door, minding her business, not even bothering to look at the boys, who where both shirtless at the moment. She had been too entertained checking her short-kept nails, wondering if she should put her fake long nails, which would look fancier painted a similar red as her lips. That little detail could make her look more in place than her natural nails, she thought.

“It’s not like you are gonna get completely naked. Are you?” Seren asked, eyeing him uninterested and arching an eyebrow his way.

Dean gave her a glare as answer.

“Fine, I’ll wait outside.” She conceded, raising her arms in surrender as she went to the door and opened it, then stopped. “Oh! And pretty boy.” Seren gave him a mocking smirk. “You better hurry up. We don’t want to be late, do we?”

Dean threw the shoe he had just taken off at the door, just as Seren closed it behind her with a laugh. Sam stifled one of his own, shaking his head at their childish shenanigans as he continued to get dressed.

 

* * *

 

“How did you know about the hex bag in the tree house?” Sam’s soft question broke the heavy silence that had settle inside the Impala as Dean drove them to the nightclub.

He turned to look at Seren after a few minutes of silence. She sat behind Dean, so Sam didn’t have to contort much to do so.

Seren sat with her legs crossed, her messenger bag over them. She was facing the window beside her, her eyes fixed on the outside without really looking at it. Her brows were slightly furrowed in thought as she bit her thumbs’ nail, surely deliberating how she should answer that question. Finally, she closed her eyes with a sigh, resting her head on the backseat.

“Mom put it there,” she answered, her voice soft. “Just like all the others. The old ones.”

“Gwen did?”

Seren’s eyes opened slightly, fixing Sam with a suspicious look when her mother’s name left his lips. She was sure to have never mentioned it before. Talked about her mother, sure. Said her name, highly doubted.

Sam seemed to realized the same thing, turning around to face his front again with a soft cough. It only made Seren more suspicious, debating if she should call him out or let it slide.

“Why would she do that?” Dean wondered, puzzled.

“Those hex bags were for protection, pretty boy.” Seren answered, resting her head again on the backseat and closing her eyes. “Like the one you threw at my face at Erin’s home.”

She would wonder how the younger Winchester had known her mother’s name another time. Just like so many other things she had to reflect on. They kept piling up. They only piled up.

“That was our house once.” She added in a whisper, before any of the Winchester asked, hoping her explanation would be enough. “Mom was a medium. Jethro, a retired hunter. Hell would freeze over before any monster entered their home and harmed their family.” She elaborated, matter-of-fact.

Or so she had wanted it to sound like.

“What happened?” Sam asked, turning again to face her.

He wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn he had heard the smallest sliver of sadness and resentment in her voice. Something must have happened in that house. Something bad that turned to the worst. It was the only thing that Sam could think of for her usual objective way of answering his questions to sound off.

“Yellow Eyes?” Dean asked, stealing a glance her way, his grip on the wheel tightening for a moment before relaxing. He was dead, Dean remembered himself as he turned a corner. They had won.

A sardonic laugh left Seren’s lips at the mention of the demon.

“He was the reason mom and Jethro took all the precautions they could. That’s true.” Seren admitted. “But it was no demon. Nor any of those things you, lads, hunt.”

The way she had said the last word, like a jab, made Dean steal a look at her through the rear-view mirror. Seren was glaring daggers though the window, a cynical and resentful smile tugging at her lips, their blood red tint and the sharp touch the make-up gave to her eyes accentuating the sneer on her face.

Catching her expression reflected on the window, Seren clicked her tongue in annoyance before stealing a look at the boys to asses if they had seen, her eyes catching Dean’s on the rear-view mirror for a second.

He had seen.

In a blink, Seren schooled her expression, turning it into a mask of impassiveness, bordering on disinterested.

“Seren?” Sam asked in a quite voice, almost a whisper.

“Sometimes, humans can be worst than monsters.” She shrugged noncommittally with just one of her shoulder, her voice empty of any kind sentiment.

The rest of the ride went completely silent.

 

* * *

 

“You remember your part of the plan,” Dean said, looking at Seren as she took off her fingerless gloves and stuck them in her bag. “Right?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Seren assured him, checking that the fake nails stayed in place.

“Run it over,” Dean ordered, crossing his arms as he stood in front of her.

“Really, pretty boy?” Seren arched an eyebrow at him.

The hunter didn’t bat an eye and Sam did nothing to interfere. Seren sighed, wishing she had just walked away after she had handed them the charms instead of letting Dean make her stay.

“Fine, I’ll humor you.” Seren said with a mocking bow before taking a deep breath and repeating their plan at full speed as she counted the steps with her fingers. “Go in there,” she motioned to the nightclub, people already waiting in line to be let in. “Find the creep. Make sure it’s him,” she made jazz hands with fake enthusiasm, her expression blank right after. “Get him out. Somewhere secluded or his home if possible. Teach lesson to don’t mess with magic. Destroy what might be left of his stash. _C’est fini!_ ”

Sam had an amused smile at her attitude but Seren was looking at Dean, expectant, waiting for him to point out the smallest of details that she might have skipped over. Her look practically dared him to do so.

When Dean gave her a curt, satisfied nod in approval, it made Seren want to smack him upside the head. But she held herself back, clicking her tongue in annoyance as she went to the line and waited her turn to be let inside the club.

She had a role to play and a creep to catch.

 

* * *

 

Sam and Dean watched over Seren as she, surprisingly for them, blended perfectly in the nightclub’s ambiance. At least, she did so better than them, awkwardly standing on a side, a drink in their hands but not drinking it (they were on the job after all) and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Seren moved to the rhythm of the music on the dance floor, her braid swaying softly down her back as she danced. She talked with a group of girls that had approached her as if they knew each other from somewhere else. And, finally, when she approached the bar for a drink, a man followed her there none too discreetly.

The boys went on high alert, keeping an eye on the scene as Seren talked with the man in case it was their guy. They couldn’t see him too well, but they caught the slight look Seren took their way, as if to make sure they were still there. After catching Sam eyes, Seren giggled to whatever the guy said to her before he called the bartender to order their drinks. The slight tension Sam had sensed from her gone.

“Might be him,” Sam commented to his brother, unable to look away in case Seren showed any sign of distress of any kind.

“Has she checked him?” Dean muttered stealing a quick glance but trying to act as if he wasn’t observing.

“I don’t think so.” Sam squinted his eyes, trying to see the guy, which was futile with the lights and the fact that his back was to them.

Seren spent some time talking with the guy as they drank. He drank, Sam noticed. Seren barely had touched hers, only putting the straw between her lips, no even taking a sip. The man was none the wiser.

As soon as the song changed, Sam saw Seren practically drag the man to the dance floor, laughing cheerfully as she made him spin a few times, hands holding, almost making them crash with other people. She was playing the slightly tipsy role perfectly.

Then, she closed the distance between her and the man, her arms going over his shoulders while his hands went automatically to rest on her hips so they where closer. He even lowered them along her body to cope a feel, not as sneakily as he might have believed himself to be.

Sam clenched and unclenched one of his hands, trying to keep himself from going there and pushing the man away from Seren. Dean must have felt him shift, for he called his little brother’s name in a whisper, his eyes now too watching Seren and the man with a deep frown, a kind of roguish smirk appearing on his lips.

He seemed impressed.

It took Sam a moment to catch what Dean had seen to make that expression. Seren’s bare hands where linked right behind the guys neck, her fingers running though the hair at the base of the man’s head. She might look entranced in the dance and the music with her eyes closed, but the Winchesters knew she was checking the guy’s mind, who was completely unaware of it as he kept copping a feel, becoming bolder.

By that point, both Sam and Dean felt the urge to go there and punch him, but forced themselves to stay still. Surely Seren was holding back her own revulsion at the man’s touch for the sake of their plan. If she could stand it and keep the charade, so would them if only out of respect for her effort.

Before the song changed, Seren made her dance partner lower his head to hers so she could whisper something in his ear. He seemed surprised to whatever she had said but, next moment, he was guiding her more than a bit hurriedly through the people on the dance floor, the exit door as his objective.

That was all the confirmation the boys needed to know that he was the creep they were searching for.

Sam and Dean wasted no time to follow them outside.

 

* * *

 

“He’s an octopus, I get that.” Dean said, rubbing his forehead. “But did you have to knock the light’s out of him?” He complained lightly, watching the unconscious man on the floor, kicking his foot as if to check he was out for good or just a bit. “You could have waited for us, you know? How will we know where he lives now?”

“Don’t worry, pretty boy.” Seren grumbled, ripping the fake nails from her fingers one by one after having put on her fingerless gloves, a deep frown of disgust on her face. “There was enough touching for me to get all the info we might need.”

And some more she didn’t even want to _ever_ think about.

“What do we do with him?” Sam asked.

If it was up to him, they would just leave him there.

“You, lads, carry him. Please.” Seren sighed. “We still have to teach him the dangers of playing with magic.”

“Yeah, because carrying an unconscious person around isn’t suspicious at all.” Dean sassed. “Totally normal.”

“Totally?” Sam echoed, giving his brother a look.

Dean shushed him, still waiting for Seren’s reply.

“On a Saturday night?” Seren returned his look. “Easy. We were partying and he went out cold after drinking too much.” Seren quickly improvised, shrugging her shoulders as if to say it wasn’t that hard of an excuse to make. “He even smells of alcohol.”

“It isn’t too far-fetched.” Sam agreed.

“Then you carry him.” Dean retorted to his brother, grumpy. “You are the biggest of us, shouldn’t be that hard nor far-fetched.”

Sam huffed a soft ‘jerk’, shaking his head at his brother moodiness—who instantly replied at the insult with a whispered ‘bitch’—before bending to pick up the guy. Sam passed one of the man’s arms behind his neck, holding it there by the wrist so it looked like he was helping him walk more than carrying him around.

Seren waited until he had a good hold on the man before guiding them towards his house, which wasn’t that far. Just a block away.

They stopped in front of the portal of his building, it’s door closed. Dean was about call dibs on _not_ patting the guy for his keys, when Seren produced a leather wallet from her bag, opened it to reveal a set of keys and, without even glancing at which key she had taken between her fingers, she opened the door, holding it for them to enter.

“How did you get his wallet?” Dean exclaimed as he went after her to the elevator.

Sam followed and, as soon as they all were inside the cubicle, he propped the man on one of he walls. He didn’t weight much, but carrying him wasn’t exactly something Sam wanted to do for much longer.

“With this?” Seren answered, showing her hands and wiggling her fingers after pressing the fifth floor button. “I thought you wanted me to use them. Did you not?” She sassed with a smirk.

“But when?” Dean seemed truly bewildered.

“When he was too busy feeling up my body to notice,” She crossed her arms, chin defiantly high, giving both Winchesters a hard look betrayed only by a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Any problem, pretty boy?”

“None,” Dean raised his hands in surrender with an impressed smile.

Seren nodded curtly before a smile broke into her face, chuckling as she accepted a fist bump from Sam in congratulations.

The elevator’s doors opened and she was the first to exit, key already in hand, making a bee line for apartment 503. She swiftly opened the door and went inside, straight to the hiding place where the guy kept his last hex bags.

“Bloody hell,” Sam heard her mutter as he dropped the man on the sofa, quite literally. “Bloody freaking hell.”

“Something wrong?” he asked her, going closer to take a look.

She had opened one of the drawers of the dresser. Inside it, between various other things Sam didn’t bother to identify, was a carver wooden box. It’s lid was askew letting them see what it contained: three hex bags.

“We may have little problem,” she practically seethed, glaring daggers at the offending objects, specially the carved box.

Sam gave her a confused look, not understanding what could be wrong. Their objective was right there, in plain sight. They just had to destroy it and wake the guy to give have a little talk with him. But the tense expression on Seren’s face remained, if not became even more tense, her eyes scanning the carvings, as if trying to decipher them. So he waited, giving her time to study it. Waiting for her okay to act.

Dean seemed to be in a hurry though.

“What are you waiting for?” he said, striding to them and extending his hand to pick up one of the hex bags from the box. “We just have to burn them and—”

“Don’t!”

But Seren’s warning came too late.

Just as Dean’s fist closed around one of the exposed hex bags, he felt a dizzy spell hit him, his vision waving, almost making him fall to the ground as everything spun around him. Vision turning black. Something pressing his chest. He could barely breath.

Something harshly hit his hand, making him drop the hex bag he had been holding with a tight grip. A harsh muffled thump barely reached his ears between his own pants as he tried to recover his breath. His lungs worked again.

Sam was already by his side, checking and asking if he was alright at the same time, helping his big brother stand on his wobbly legs. In his dizziness Dean’s eyes searched for the hex bag.

It had been thrown to the other side of the room.

“You stupid fool!” Seren screamed at him, barely containing a panicked expression, her fist clenching her pendant with a trembling hand. “If the witch says there’s a bloody problem, you better swallow that bloody hunter pride of yours—or whatever it bloody is—and listen! Even John was sensible enough to stop and wait when I said there was a bloody problem.” She added in a mutter.

“What was that?” Dean asked, still a bit unsteady and confused. “What happened?”

“You almost got your life cursed out of you, pretty boy. That’s what bloody happened.” Seren growled. “You are welcome, by the way.”

“Why? For slapping the hex bag from my hand?” Dean growled back, frustrated for getting careless and for being yelled at by her. Being compared to his father didn’t help his mood either. “Sam could have done that too, sweetheart.” He told her, condescendingly.

“I don’t think she was referring to that, Dean.” Sam said, his tone meek, eyes fixed on the floor. “I think she meant for the bracelet.”

Dean was about to complain again, demanding an explanation he could understand when he followed Sam’s stare. Between them, besides his feet, laid what once had been the braided bracelet Seren had given him. Not only was it broken but also completely charred, smoke still coming from it.

“What’s going on?” Came a confused voice from the sofa, the man’s head peeking over the backseat. “Who are you?” His eyes fell on Seren, quickly getting up, furious. “You little bitch!”

“Hey, there!” Seren waved at him with a cheerful and sardonic smile on her face. “Just the man I wanted to have a little talk with.”

Hand still closed over her pendant, Seren snapped her fingers and the man fell to his knees with a cry. His eyes went completely wide, the confused expression on his face turning into a terrified one when he looked back up at her.

“How do we unlock it?” Seren demanded, voice calm, practically stalking towards him until only three feet separated them.

“I don’t—” A snap of Seren’s fingers and the man’s face turned to a side as if he had been slapped. His skin went pale, while the cheek that had been hit turned red. “What the fu—”

“Answer the bloody question,” Seren cut, voice even. “How do we unlock the box?”

“It,” the man started, voice breaking, mouth dry. He licked his lips trying to moister them as he processed what was happening along with Seren’s question. “It has no lock. What are you talking about?”

Seren made to snap her fingers again and the man started wailing, practically throwing himself to the floor, covering his head with his arms as he swore, over and over, that he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“So you don’t know the box is protected by a curse. Okay. Fine. I’ll believe you, I guess.” Seren conceded, expression blank. “How about the hex bags?” she crouched in front of him. “Did you know what they would do? That’s it, if you had used them correctly, I mean. The bookstore was the closest you came to that.” She tilted her head to a side giving him a contemptuous look. “For someone that assembles furniture for a living, you really suck at following instructions.”

The man raised his head to glare at her. She returned the gesture, making sure he also saw her fingers, right before his face, ready to snap at the smallest of movements she could consider as threatening.

Feeling trapped, he looked around, fearfully, until he saw Sam and Dean standing away from them and still close to the hex bags’ box. But the little hope he had that they could help him with the crazy chic in his apartment was snuffled as he noticed their scowls fixed on him.

The Winchesters had silently agreed to just watch the scene develop, between confused and taken aback by Seren’s sudden forceful yet eerily calm behavior. What had happened when Dean activated the curse had really riled her up, making the brother’s keep a safe distance, leaving her space to do her thing but ready to intervene in case she crossed the line. So far, it was just what the man deserved.

“No,” the man stuttered out, biting the words trying to hold back his anger at Seren’s mocking. “No, I didn’t know something like that would happen. They were meant to be pranks. Maybe a bit harsh, but just pranks! They deserved to be put in their place. Always looking down on me.” He mumbled to himself. When he caught himself, he raised his stare to Seren, a pleading look in his eyes. “I didn’t know it would go that far. I swear!”

There was a pause. Silence broken only by the ticktock of a clock coming from somewhere in the apartment and the rapid respiration of the man on the floor.

Seren remained completely still, one hand gripping her pendant and, the other, ready to snap. Her expression was a blank mask, no emotion reflected on her eyes anymore, not even disgust. She had become a statue. It made the man even more nervous, trying to look at the Winchester’s for help once more.

They remained standing where they were.

“You are on your own,” Dean mouthed at him, shrugging with a small smirk he couldn’t hold back.

“I know you are lying,” Seren said, voice neutral and even. “You knew what would happen the whole time. In fact, you were quite disappointed when the accidents weren’t as serious as you would have liked.” Her eyes narrowed and a hint of a wicked smirk twisted her lips. “You were already wondering what would happen to me if I rejected you, since you had finally figured out how to really use the hex bags.”

The man’s shocked expression was priceless. For each word Seren had said, he had gone paler until his skin seemed to resemble wax. He was completely petrified in place by fear or shock or both. Perspiration made his face sheen and, as beads of frightened sweat ran down his temples, it gave the impression he was a melting wax statue.

Seren laid two fingers on the side of his head for a little peak. The contact with the sweaty skin made her grimace in disgust, but it only lasted a second, he expression blank again before a caustic laugh left her lips.

“Even now you are thinking of how you’ll use the hex bags you have left to curse us.” Her eyes narrowed as she arched her eyebrow at him in an incredulous look. “Really?”

The man started away from her hand with a curse. He tried to get up and away, but his legs failed him, tripping over himself, falling back on his butt just as Seren got up, towering over him. She had picked a tissue from her bag, cleaning the fingers that had touched him before crumbling it into a ball and letting it fall to the floor.

“Since you are definitely thick on the head and feel no remorse at all for what you’ve done,” Seren said, her tone sounding like a judge about to state a sentence. She took a little pouch from her bag, her eyes fixed on the man’s the whole time. “I think this punishment’s suitable for the likes of you.”

Before Dean or Sam could stop her, Seren had already taken a pinch of the pouch’s contents, blowing some sort of sparkled dust on the man’s face. He coughed as if choking for a moment. His eyes went blank before he collapsed on the floor, completely still.

“This wasn’t the plan!” Dean complained trying not to scream as he grabbed Seren by the arm to turn her to face him. Her expression was a blank mask. “What did you do to him?”

“Teach him a lesson, which was the plan, via mind trip.” She answered, matter-of-fact. “Should wake up in a few hours tops, completely fine.” Seren added before Dean said anything. “Added a little extra so he doesn’t remember us.”

“I told you to warn us when you do that,” Dean growled, letting go of her arm.

“True,” Seren accepted after a pause. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes went to the drawer where the carved box was. “Now the problem is getting rid of the box of hex bags.”

“You can’t break the wards?” Sam asked.

“If I could I wouldn’t have to ask the guy how to unlock it,” Seren barked, grimacing right after for taking her frustration on Sam. “Didn’t mean to snap at you. My apologies.” She said with a deep sigh.

She was too tired to deal to whatever spell Espinoza had cast on the damned box.

Luckily enough, Seren did know of someone who might have no problem with it, but that option wasn’t exactly perfect either. Still, it was better than leaving the hex bag’s box there. It could easily undo her job erasing any trace of their existence from the man’s mind. And then, when he remembered, he could order hex bags more from Espinoza and get back to his revenges for petty reasons.

After assuring the Winchester they could leave, mission accomplished and all that, to no effect—Dean explicitly stated she didn’t trust her with the hex bags.

Seren gave up on the discretion then.

With a defeated, exhausted sigh, Seren picked her phone from her bag and called Anthony, cutting whatever chit-chat he might start by giving him the apartment’s address and telling him to simply ring when he got there so she would let him in. He was the one to hung up as hurried noises came from the other side of the line.

Sam and Dean gave her a confused look, both wondering how Anthony could help them with the curse even if only Dean voiced the thought. But Seren didn’t answer, pacing the room as they waited, mentally throwing daggers at the box by the way her eyes looked at it from time to time.

As soon as the doorbell rang, Seren sprinted to the intercom, checked it was indeed Anthony though the video feed, and pressed the button to let him in the building. Few minutes later, he knocked on the front door, his perfect hair made a mess due the haste to get there a panicked expression on his face.

“What’s wrong? You okay?” He asked, panting, as he held Seren’s face to inspect it. “Cool makeup job, by the way.” He added with a tense smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“Peachy,” Seren sighed. “But we’ve got a huge problem.” She motioned at the open drawer. “Take a look.”

A bit confused a with a wary look towards the Winchesters, Anthony followed Seren’s indication. As soon a he saw the carved box and it’s content, he brought his hand to his mouth to muffle a colorful curse as he scowled at the objects hatefully, just as Seren had done.

“This time he went a tad overboard with his security.” Anthony grumbled before turning to Seren again. “I might not be able to help. You know that, right?”

Seren nodded at him before turning to Sam, asking for him to cede his bracelet to Anthony. Still puzzled, knowing nothing of the siblings plan and with no understanding of what was happening, the younger Winchester took off the bracelet carefully and handed it to the man who, after taking a close look at it and congratulating Seren about its making, swiftly tied it around his wrist.

“Now you have an extra life.” Seren joked before making a video game’s sound like noise.

Anthony laughed, shaking his head at her. He waited for Seren to give him the green light to move, while she got ready to interfere in case of necessity, like she had done with Dean. After exchanging a curt nod, Anthony extended a hand towards the box, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth before he took one of the hex bags.

Everybody held their breath for a moment.

But nothing happened.

A deep relieved sigh left Seren’s lips, her body relaxing, her hand letting go of her pendant. Anthony giggled nervously, throwing softly and carefully the hex bag in the air to catch it again, as some sort of celebration.

“What’s going on?” Dean looked really affronted between the two of them. “Why didn’t the curse affect him? Even that stupid bracelet is intact. What the fuck!”

“I’m on the whitelist,” Anthony answered, stealing a glance at Seren before adding. “My dad made these. He usually makes sure they won’t be used against family. On purpose or by accident, doesn’t matter. He always makes sure it won’t happen.”

“Then why didn’t she—” Dean pointed at Seren. “—take care of it? She’s your sister.”

“Half-sister,” Seren corrected. For once, Anthony echoed the correction with sadness in his voice. “I’m not on the list, pretty boy. That’s all you need to know. Tony,” she called and his eyes went to her in a flash. “Do you know how to deal with that?”

“Kill it with fire,” Anthony nodded, producing a lighter from his pocket. “I’ll go do that in the bathroom. Seems safer.”

“Don’t forget that one,” Seren pointed at the one she had sent to the other side of the room. “And I thought you had stopped smoking.” She added with a confused frown.

“And I did. Thanks to my lovely husband’s support,” Anthony assured her with a laugh, picking the hex bag from the floor. “This is just a silly lucky charm. Comes handy from time to time, doesn’t it?” He showed the item for Seren to recognize it, winking an eye her way.

The young woman held back a groan. It was the lighter she had given him as a birthday gift the year he had appeared in her life saying, “Hey, I’m your big brother. Nice to finally meet you. It’s my birthday, by the way.”

She didn’t know what she was supposed to give to a newly found four-years-older sibling she didn’t care about, and her sixteen-year-old self had thought a flashy lighter full of glitter and with a silly unicorn pattern was appropriate enough of a gift to tell the other person without words to get lost.

It would have worked if Anthony wasn’t just as stubborn as she was and with the same sense of humor. Her birthday gift from him that year had been an eighteen-inches rainbow alpaca plushy with a pair of big glittery golden eyes with tiny stars that creeped the hell out of her.

She still had it.

Anthony laughed at her expression and went into the bathroom to take care of the hex bags. The box he would return it to his father, along with a warning he would surely ignore.

As soon as the bathroom door closed behind Anthony, Dean turned to face Seren a frown on his face even if he looked triumphant.

“I was right,” He said, pointing at her. “You knew who was behind our case. That’s why you wanted in.”

“Congratulations, pretty boy. Do you want a prize or something?” Seren sassed, crossing her arms. “And I knew who made the hex bags, not who was using them. Not the same.”

She couldn’t help but to steal a glance at Sam, to see his reaction at the reveal. She shouldn’t have. The look of disappointment in his eyes made her feel a pang of guilt.

Where it came from, she wasn’t sure.

“Look, I helped you get the guy,” Seren motioned to the still unconscious man lying on the floor. “And now Tony is destroying what’s left of the stash. Case closed.”

“What if he gets more hex bags?” Sam asked, a slight frown on his face. “What then?”

“He won’t.” Seren assured firmly. “I already took care of it. And Anthony will surely tell his father—”

“Your father.” Dean cut, making Seren flinch.

“He’s no father of mine,” she growled with a glare. “Now drop that subject, pretty boy.”

“Just how many siblings do you have by the way?” Dean continued jabbing. “It seems each time we meet, you have a new one.”

Couldn’t he just let it go? Did he really have so much spare time to waste asking her questions about her family situation instead of searching for a way to avoid going to hell?

Seren tried to remain silent, but it didn’t work, the hunter insisting for her to answer, so she finally did.

“Don’t know. Never met them all.” She admitted, scratching her cheek and looking away.

“What’s that supposed to even mean!” Dean laughed, completely baffled.

Yeah, Dean was definitely pissed and taking his frustration on her, that much was crystal clear for Sam to see. He too didn’t take well that Seren had helped them with ulterior motives, but Dean was making too much of a deal about it.

And Dean’s anger was passing on to Seren, who was already just too tired, sleep deprived and generally uncomfortable, to keep her mouth shut for her own good.

“You wanna know what it means?” She asked, posture straight, head high in defiance as she glared at the older Winchester, embers in her eyes. “It means I’m a bastard conceived on a drunken one-night stand because of a faulty condom.” Seren sneered at him, taking slow steps towards him, calculating. “I know the siblings my mother gave birth to because she kept me with her. If the man who sired me had more offspring, I have no bloody clue of how many there are, much less who they are because, for him, I’m just a drunken mistake he made and couldn’t get rid off.” When she finished, she stood a bit more than a foot away from Dean, head raised so she could keep staring daggers right into his stupid green eyes. “Does that answer your bloody question, pretty boy?”

The hunters were truly shocked, both at her reaction and her whole speech. Their eyes were as wide as they could be. Sam’s mouth was half open in shock, not knowing if he should try to say something to calm her or remain silent. Dean’s mouth was closed on a thin line, making sure no word left it in case it worsened the situation. He had even made to rise his hands in defeat, trying to appease her apparently calm wrath. He seemed truly intimidated by the young woman that was almost one foot shorter than him.

Or maybe not. Seren could swear his stare lowered from her eyes to her lips for a moment.

“On that note,” Anthony’s voice came from the bathroom’s door direction.

Completely composed, he closed it silently behind him and went to stand besides Seren, slipping the carved box in her bag before, ever so softly, resting his hand on her shoulders. Once he had a hold of her and after giving a little reassuring squeeze, Anthony carefully guided her to take a few steps away from Dean, to leave some safe distance between each other.

For whose safety, it wasn’t clear.

“I’m the one that searched for her in an act of curiosity and rebellion against my father, because he doesn’t recognize her as his daughter and wants absolutely nothing to do with her.” His tone was soft, yet felt caustic, his stare harsh and protective. “I’m telling you this in case you wanted to corroborate the information you so kindly pressed from the person that, not only helped you get the culprit of you little case.” He nodded at the unconscious man. “But also saved your life.” He added, motioning for the charred bracelet with the hand that had it’s twin, a harsh stare directed at Dean. “Now, if you allow us or not, I don’t give a damn which, it’s time for us to go.” His smile was pure business, but acid as he added. “Nice meeting you, gentlemen. Really hope we don’t have the pleasure ever again.”

And, with that, Anthony passed one of his arms behind Seren’s shoulders, making her turn to the front door and both of them left the apartment.

The Winchester stood there, completely stunned in place. They didn’t react until the man on the floor started to stir from his slumber, drowsily, moment in which Sam and Dean hurried for the door as silently and quickly as they could before he woke up and saw a pair of strangers in his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PATCH[03June2019]  
> If by chance you read this chapter before this date, you'll have noticed it's not the same as it was.  
> No, your memory isn't playing tricks on you. I did add/change some details apart from fixing some typos I saw post-update.  
> Sorry for the inconvenience.


	7. Chapter 21 — Time for Thought and the Start of a Bright Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how the last chapter was a long one that I should have divided in two because I had to edit a big chunk of the second half just a few days after the update? (It's nothing mayor plot-wise, as far as I can remember, so there should be no need for you to re-read it if you don't want to, sorry for the inconvenience).  
> I've learned of my mistakes, so the 'filler' light chapter I promised has turned into two because, by this point, this fic has a life of its own and I can't predict just how long the chapters will be anymore.

Seren was in a good mood. There was a quiet calmness as her internal alarm had gone silent for a whole week. No bad feeling. No looming disaster. Not that she hadn’t had her fair share of close encounters with more of Blake’s goons during that time—if only—, but they had been petty things. Nothing more than what could be described as child’s play, trying to scare her with the same old tricks.

The last one had done basically the same thing the demon possessing the waitress at the dinner had done, the only difference that they had chosen an empty small shop instead.

With the surprise factor long gone, Seren didn’t even flinch when the demon had grabbed her wrist. She had held their coal gaze with the blankest of faces she could pull off in that moment. It made the demon nervous, she could tell, and she would be lying if she ever said she didn’t love the fact that she could cause that effect on them.

In a blink, Seren had neutralized and trapped the demon, getting as reward the twisted thing’s complains, going over and over, trying to jar her like the sore loser they were during the whole time they had to wait for her contractor to retrieve the demon.

Seren had gotten fed up with Blake’s demons silly attempts to intimidate her by the third encounter. But they kept coming, so she had started to search for more creative ways, out of pure spite, to make their stay on their traps as uncomfortable as possible during the waiting time they had to spend in there.

You reap what you sow.

As it seemed, the memo of her having special permission and a free pass against demons that didn’t belong to her boss’ faction hadn’t reached everyone’s ears yet. Surprisingly, nobody had noticed some minor demons gone missing. Surely Blake should have, since they came on his behalf, but he didn’t seem to mind having to search for new bruisers every time he wanted to molest her. Nor seemed to have any trouble finding new ones, on that note.

Her contractor was all too happy to take away every demon Seren trapped to deal with them later. Specially after he had had a bad, stressful day at work, which seemed to be always. He said it was therapeutic. A relaxing hobby of sorts.

Seren didn’t share the sentiment, but couldn’t care less about what happened to those pests. She was already too busy with taking care of the poor, confused meatsuits the demons of the day left behind as her contractor took them back to hell. Her budget for oblivion charms had skyrocketed those day, that’s all she had to say about it.

The last time her contractor had come to get her capture, he had made a comment about how they, he and the boss, should have asked Seren to hunt the dissidents, as he called them, a long time ago after seeing how well she was dealing with them. He had even seemed impressed by her methods and how they were evolving.

Seren favored setting traps before hand—perks of knowing she was a walking target—more than open combat. It had turned out to be really effective so far. She had even developed a strategy for surprise attacks, a simple combo of her powers and a set of personalized stamps. The main one was a devil’s trap, that way the demon couldn’t smoke out and escape. The second she had come up was one to block the demon’s powers after one had used them to interrupt her drawing of a full devil’s trap to incapacitate them. The others stamps that formed the set were the symbols in charge of making their stay as uncomfortable as Seren could make it.

That had seemed to catch her contractor’s attention the most, even giving her a slightly proud look when he noted their numbers increasing each time he came to retrieve a demon, as if seeing some potential he hadn’t considered before.

When he wondered, not as offhandedly as he might have though, why they had never ordered her to hunt down dissidents or deserters, Seren restrained herself from blatantly rolling her eyes at him.

“Well, sir,” she had started, voice almost dripping with sarcasm. It always did when she called him ‘sir’. “I guess it wouldn’t be such a good idea to have me getting too comfortable hunting demons.” Seren had shrugged nonchalantly before turning to look at him, a mischievous smirk on her lips. “Maybe I would become overconfident and decide to go against the higher-ups.”

It certainly was a tempting thought sometimes.

She would be free. Set the rules. No more asking for permission to interfere on demon business because their victim wasn’t on her protection program. No more movement limitation. She would be able to go wherever she wanted. North. South. She could even travel across the oceans! By ship or plane, Seren didn’t even care.

“Good thing you are clever enough to not do that, poppet.” Her contractor had laughed, a bit of a patronizing tone on his voice. Seren had the feeling that, if they had been standing closer, he would have even pinched the tip of her nose.

“I prefer ‘practical’, sir.” Seren had pointed out, going back to what she had been doing before Blake’s goon of the day had interrupted her.

Her contractor conceded her that much before disappearing with his new anti-stress toy, leaving Seren there to mull over her life situation as she kept working.

With it’s pros and cons, her Pact kept things simple. It gave her some security on certain aspects and some advantages too, even if it limited her movements.

It was a golden cage.

If she ever did get rid of the Pact, the backlash would be too great for her to bear. The repercussions something she wasn’t near ready to face. The price to pay too high yet. So it was quite safe to say that Seren would do anything in her hands to make sure it remained as it was for as long as she could maintain it. Even if it meant living inside that bloody golden cage, singing to the demon’s tune, her whole life.

But fighting Blake’s goons was also a good thing in a sense. Tiresome as hell and a bit draining, sure, but good overall. It was her only accepted way to test her own ability against demons without compromising the Pact. Her options to fight them where limited, true, but she could still pull her own weight fairly well. Even better than she had expected, if she was being honest.

Why was it a good thing she could test her effectiveness against demons? Easy answer! Because one could never know when the higher-ups would change their mind and consider her Pact to be too bothersome to keep, or if, one morning, they woke up (Did demons even sleep?) and simply decided to get rid of her for kicks and laughs. So, knowing that she had a chance, even if small, gave her some confidence and sense of security.

Too many things could change without previous warning. Just as nobody would have guessed the Gates of Hell would have been opened, yet they had been, releasing a horde of demons on earth, thanks to a wicked plan that had cost Sirius’ life.

Seren wouldn’t allow the unexpected to take away anyone she held dear ever again if she had any saying on it.

Thinking about the Gates reminded her of Azazel. Of all the mysteries the wicked thing had left behind himself for her to guess. Why did he follow the Pact’s conditions when he wasn’t bound to it? What was going on in his twisted mind to trick her into a contract that forced her to an unnamed future favor? He had said she had nothing to offer him at the moment, but that she would in the future. He had been so sure of it, so confident in his prediction, it still bothered her, even with the yellow-eyed demon gone.

On the times before she fell asleep in the safety of Camille, like in that same moment, her brain would bring those question back to attention, her mind running possible options. Possible answers. Some days, it recalled new details or shined a new light on the ones she remembered, giving them a different meaning she hadn’t thought of before. And, each time, Seren was left to wonder if she would ever find any answer to her questions or would be left wondering forever.

That day, her mind decided to replay the last conversation Seren had had with Azazel, a special focus on the way he had said they were practically family. Back then she had thought it was because of the Pact, that he had considered it as a brotherhood of sorts. But he hadn’t been bound to it, so it couldn’t be that. There must have been something else. His wording only confused her more as she tried to guess what he could have meant by it.

If it even meant anything at all. Let’s not forget he was a demon. Maybe he had just said it to mess with her since his next words had been about how she had left Sirius, her own brother, unprotected for him to kidnap.

Sometimes a tiny and meek little voice in her head would suggest to ask her contractor about Azazel in general. That, maybe, he or the big boss would know something and solve part of those little mysteries that haunted her, for lack of a better term.

Seren laughed at it’s naivety, thinking that she would have better chances at winning a poker game while showing her hand the whole time than asking anything to the higher-ups expecting an answer. And she knew jack about how to play poker.

Her mind was quite active that night, and nostalgic of sorts it seemed, because it decided to recall her two other encounters with the yellow-eyed demon as well.

The first had been when she had caught him beside Sirius’ crib when he had been a baby as it seemed. She had been only three years old then. There was no way she could have remembered on her own, but she had seen the memory, linked with all the visions related to Azazel in Sam’s mind. Or that connection had triggered the memory back from wherever it had been stored in her own mind. Who knew.

Quite some time had passed since Seren had thought about that memory in particular. A year maybe?

At first, it had been not much different than when she got glimpses of others people’s minds. Only that it was her own, something she had never experienced before, and it had been… weird. Strange.

Usually, she felt what she called a mood. A sense of self that matched the person to whom the memory belonged. But, in hers, she had felt two different moods: one, that of a scared little child; the other, that of something more… not detached, but kind of distant and firm. Commanding even. Something old. Something ancient.

Seren had peeked into the minds of century-old vampires a few times in her life, and that presence felt way older than that.

It had left her puzzled, trying to understand where that mood came from exactly and why it felt that way. It wasn’t normal, that was a fact.

She hadn’t found any answers back then.

Now though, she knew her powers might as well be an entity of their own thanks to Rosa’s information about _A_ _buela_ Gallardo. Seren had deduced the powers had been passed though generations somehow, since her grandma had had them and now she had them. It made the ancient sense she felt from that memory make a bit more sense—sort of.

Seren had been a little kid, confused, scared, and with a demon before her about to hurt Jethro while her baby brother cried his little lungs out from his crib. She had no doubt that her powers, whatever they might be, had taken control that time even if only to protect Jethro from the menace, and that’s why she felt two selves in that memory: herself as a child and whatever conscience her powers might have.

Seren couldn’t help the frown that appeared on her face when she remembered the twisted, wicked smile Azazel had given her, surely after her powers had pushed him away before he could hurt Jethro more—or worse. There had been a captivated glint in his yellow eyes, entranced, as if he had found something unexpected and extremely valuable.

Maybe that was it, what he had wanted from her to trick her into a deal. Her powers, whatever they were, was what Azazel had wanted. But not in that moment though, which would only mean they would get stronger somehow at some point in the future?

Seren doubted that.

And, still, that didn’t explain why he had made his followers respect the Pact’s rules. Not that Seren was complaining about it. Not one bit. It just irked her to not know why. To be left in the dark, specially when she recalled the yellow-eyed demon smiling at her as if they shared a secret she knew nothing about. It was disturbing, to say the least.

Then, there had been the second time they had met. What she had thought to be the first until she had seen the vision of the actual first time she had saw him. On that second encounter, he had—

Seren’s phone went off, a waltz—one of her phone’s ringtone options— cutting off her thoughts, the memory dispelled like smoke figures in the air hit by a sudden puff. It made the woman groan in frustration containing a curse at the caller.

Just by hearing the music, Seren already knew who it was.

With a sight, she felt around for the singing item, not even bothering to open her eyes. It was dark anyway and the device’s lights would bother her sight more than anything.

Once the phone was in her hand, she felt for the answering button with her thumb and pressed it even before taking the cell to her hear.

“It’s too late for job-talking,” Seren complained as form of greeting. Even if she had been deep in thought, sleep hadn’t been too far from her and, as always, she needed her hours to function properly. “Can’t it wait until morning, Talbot?”

“Hello, love. I’m so happy to hear your sweet voice too.” Bela answered cheerfully, the sound of an engine as background noise. She must have been on the road.

“What happened?” Seren cut. As soon as she heard the other woman’s voice, Seren had a hunch that Bela wasn’t calling to share good news precisely.

“Remember that hunter you warned me about? The extra crazy one?”

Gordon.

“Yes,” Seren stretched the word with a growing frown, irritated. She didn’t like the reasons her brain was providing for Bela to bring him into the conversation. “You didn’t get in trouble with him. Did you?”

“Me? Of course not, love.” So someone else did. “I need his location though. Would you get it for me, please?”

“Why?” Bela made to divert her attention, but Seren cut her before she could say anything. “You know the rules after what happened last time, Talbot. Either you tell me what’s going on, or you go get your info from another source.”

“Bit resentful aren’t we, love. I already apologized profusely and payed you in kind. Didn’t I?” Bela complained playfully, surely pouting. Seren let the silence stretch until the young woman finally gave up, sighing. “I may have made a tiny miscalculation. I need his location to fix it.”

“Details, Bela.” Seren insisted, covering her eyes with her free arm, just because. “What kind of mistake, for starters.”

“Oh, nothing big.” She was trying to play it down, Seren could tell. “I just sold him the Winchester’s location and—”

“You did what?!” Seren bolted up, mouth hanging open, eyes wide, her sleepiness completely gone. “What the bloody hell were you thinking, lass? He wants them dead!”

“More reason for you to get me his location then, love.” Bela retorted lightly. Seren could hear the impish smile in her voice.

Grumbling a protest as she put the phone between her ear and her shoulder, Seren started to get on the task at hand, searching for everything she needed to find the mad hunter’s location. She couldn’t recall if she had the materials at the moment and was debating between spending time searching for them or simply send Caleb to search for Gordon.

“I can’t believe it. What did he give you for that info?” Seren asked, tone tense until she found just the box with everything she needed, a relieved smile on her lips as she opened it.

“I think you can guess that one, love.” Was Bela’s cheeky answer, her cheerful tone almost betraying her for a fraction.

“Yeah, I can guess.” Seren sighed. After a pause, she asked. “What’s making you try to fix this little situation though?”

For as long as she had know Bela Talbot and her business of ‘acquiring obscure objects for a selected clientele’, the young woman didn’t care much of how her deals ended, as in how the objects or information she provided affected others’ lives. So it was a big deal that she was trying to fix this situation with the Winchesters.

Oh, of-bloody-course.

“Wait. Did Dean threaten to kill you?” Seren couldn’t help but to laugh as she inspected one of her crystals for any defects that would compromise the tracking, picturing the green-eyed hunter’s menace without any difficulty. She had been there after all. “He did. Didn’t he?”

“I see you know him well.” Bela exclaimed with a chuckle, letting the words roll with a certain sultriness when she asked. “Something juicy you would like to share with an old friend, love?”

“None of the sort, lass.” Seren laughed at her cheekiness. “We just worked a case or two together.” She answered vaguely, noting she only lacked a map. “Where were the Winchester? It would help me get a more accurate reading faster.”

“Really? You worked with them? I’m surprised to hear that.” Bela over acted her surprise with an exaggerated gasp. “I told Gordon they where in Albany.”

“Got it,” Seren confirmed, picking the map out of her collection. “And I’m glad, and proud, that you are trying to fix this little situation.” Seren extended the map and got everything ready. “Even if it took a death threat to do so.” She added with a giggle. “I have to hung up now. Gotta concentrate.”

“Argh! Don’t say that, love. You’ll ruing my cold hearted persona.” Bela complained playfully. “One of us has to take that role in our little duo and we both know you are too soft for it. Most of the time.” There was a pause before Bela whispered, a note of vulnerability in her voice. “I owe you one.”

“I’ll text you the location in a minute.” Seren simply replied, adding with a light tone before hanging up. “And yes you do, lass. And I plan on cashing it pretty soon.”

 

* * *

 

“What are we doing here, Sam?” Dean asked, trying to loosen the bow tie Sam had forced him to wear to no use and looking at the luxurious manor they had to get in.

It shined brightly. All the windows had their lights on even if only for show, Dean was sure, and the exterior had some extra illumination for decoration. It almost made it look like a Christmas parade. But the somber kind though, all in gold and silver and black and white. It made the front wrought iron gate look a bit intimidating with it’s Gothic decorations on the side columns either back-lighted or with the spotlight put right under them.

However, they didn’t seem to intimidate the joyous people that kept arriving in luxurious cars. It almost looked like a procession. They all waited patiently chatting between themselves as the security guards checked their invitations and identification before they would be granted access to the property gardens on their way to the mansion.

Dean felt his skin crawl at all the pompous people there reunited. Some were even wearing top hats! And he could have sworn he had seen an old man that looked like a carbon copy of the Monopoly’s mascot, with the suit, the hat, the white mustache and the cane. Did Rich Uncle Pennybags have a monocle? Dean couldn’t remember if he did, but his carbon copy in flesh and blood had one.

“Sam?” Dean called, as his brother hadn’t answered his question.

“I’ve told you, there’s a charity—” Dean scoffed. “—gala. For fund raising. And we have to get in there for the auction they are holding.”

“And why do we have to do that?” Dean asked, stretching the words like a petulant child his parent were forcing to go to an event he didn’t want to attend.

Instead of telling him, Sam practically shoved his laptop in Dean’s face. On the screen, there was a small article about one of the items that would be auctioned that night. An old locket with a cameo of a young woman’s profile, eyes closed, her hair up in a hairstyle of the period. She was wearing a pearl necklace and had a budding rose to her lips. If one looked closely, they would notice a single petal between them.

“You know the only classic thing I like is rock, Sammy.” Dean teased, moving the screen away from his face. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Really funny,” Sam deadpanned. “It’s a talisman to keep the evil away. A really powerful one, according to my sources,” he explained.

“And it’s important because…”Dean prompted.

“Because,” Sam started with a tired, fed up puff of air. “If it keeps the evil away, it might give protection against demons and hell-hounds. Could be useful.” He insisted, seeing his brother’s uninterested look. “Might buy us some extra time before… You know.”

There was a tense silence for a moment, broken by a soft ‘yeah’ from Dean while Sam cleared his throat, checking something else on the computer, typing harder and louder than necessary.

“I see your point,” Dean admitted with a sigh. “But I don’t think we have enough founds to outbid any of those big fishes.” He pointed at the people going into the manor.

“That’s why we are going to steal it,” Sam said, unfazed, still typing.

Dean gave his brother a surprised look, but said nothing about it.

Sam had worked everything out on his own. The whole plan. Had figured that breaking and entering to get the locket was out of the question since there was a pretty tight security ring to do so. It was obvious the attendant crowd was important to a certain degree, but Dean thought that much security was an overkill when Sam explained it to him.

The options left were to disguise themselves as waiters, or to try and sneak in as guests. The later wouldn’t do, since whoever had organized the gala, had asked for the service to be done by people dressed up in some weird custom-made uniforms along with masks that made the serving staff look like colorful bird-people for some absurd reason.

They only had the sneak-as-guest option available. That’s why Dean was fighting with his stupid bow tie, because Sam had been the one to go get their suits for the event since their fed ones would look too sober, or so the younger Winchester had said. Dean still would have preferred to wear a normal tie than that thing that seemed to be trying to choke him to dead.

So, they had the proper ensemble to pass as guest. Problem was, they still lacked an invitation to go in, and Dean’s charm wasn’t working to convince the bouncers that their partners had come before them with their invitations and were already inside, waiting for them as they spoke.

When the bouncer told Dean to call their partners so they would come get them, the best excuse the hunter could come up with was that they had left their phones behind, earning a narrowed and fed up look from the bouncer while the other one laughed as he kept checking others guests invitations.

Just when the vein popping on the bouncer’s neck seemed to be near bursting, a hand looped itself on Dean’s arm as a soft, girlish chuckle reached his ear. It was familiar and strange all at once.

“I told you it wouldn’t work, you fool.” A voice beside him giggled, the mocking said in a somewhat endearingly tone.

Doing his best to go with the flow and don’t let the surprise show on his face, Dean stole a glance at the woman besides him only to find Bela, a charming smile on her glossy pink-colored lips, her natural brown hair perfectly pressed and combed. She was wearing an elegant and light long black coat, the hem of what seemed to be a black dress almost reaching the ground even with her high heels.

“Please, forgive him.”Bela said to the bouncer, taking a step in front of Dean as she let go of his arms. “He meant no harm. Just checking the security scrutiny.” She waved nonchalantly. “On our last gala, some pranksters got in and caused quite the ruckus due an incompetent security team.” She giggled, taking one hand to her mouth to hide her smile in a demure gesture. “I can still hear Mrs Miller screeching about her mink coat painted bright green. Don’t you?”

“A memory hard to forget,” Dean laughed as he shook his head, going along with her story.

He turned to Sam for a second, asking with a look if he had planned this without telling him, but his brother’s slightly wide eyes told Dean that he had no idea what was happening either.

“You know this men, Ms Rosefield?” The bouncer asked, arching an eyebrow her way.

“Oh, yes. Forgive me. Got a bit sidetracked there.” Bela apologized coyly. “As he said, they are mine and Ms Summers plus-one.” She assured with a nod motioning at Dean and Sam in that order. “They don’t have an invitation, but should be on the list.” She frowned slightly. “Aren’t they?”

With a sigh, the bouncer went along the list, searching for Dean and Sam Baker, as Bela had said were their real names. The fact that Dean had previously provided fake identities only going along the excuse of him checking the security.

As it was expected, the bouncer didn’t find them listed as authorized guests.

“I’m sure I told Mr Schubert to add them.” Bela insisted with a sigh, looking a bit troubled. “Maybe he forgot. Poor man is so stressed with this gala. Mrs Schubert wants everything perfect but leaves all the heavy lighting to her poor husband.” Bela shook her head, clicking her tongue. “If you give me a moment and not kick them out, I could go inside and bring Mr Schubert to confirm they are allowed in.”

“That won’t be necessary.” The bouncer sighed, tired and wanting to move on already. “You have confirmed these gentlemen—” She motioned vaguely, and a bit rudely, to the Winchesters. “—are here as yours and Ms Summers’ plus-one. They may go inside.”

“Thank you _so_ much.” Bela said with a cheeky smile.

Hugging Dean’s arm again, she guided-dragged him inside the garden though the gate, Sam following them closely behind. Both brothers exchanged a quick look as they walked through the gardens to the manor’s door, wondering the same thing.

Why had she just helped them? Was Ms Summers who they thought to be? And more importantly, what were they doing there and what were they planning?

“Relax, boys.” Bela laughed, sensing their uneasiness. “It’s a gala! We are going to have such a good time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remeber how I also said this arc would be both season 3 and 4 because there was no point on keeping them appart?  
> I was wrong. That's why now this it Part1 aka only season 3. Part 2 will be season 4.  
> Thank you so much for bearing with me and my changes on mind because, as I said, this fic has a life of its own and I can't control it.


	8. Chapter 22 — Mimes Are Just French Clowns

Bothersome.

That’s what this job was: bloody bothersome.

Not that staying in a luxurious mansion didn’t have its perks, Seren would admit that much. It wasn’t everyday she could take a lavish shower with great water pressure—the massage jets did wonders with the knots on her shoulders and back—and in which she could easily regulate the perfect temperature. No more having to choose between scalding hot or freezing cold water, with no in between somehow.

But the important part of this job wasn’t it’s perks, nor the pompous gala full of top notch sweets she had to attend to complete it, which was already going on downstairs and gritted on her nerves for some reason. Those were just extras. The important part of this job was the reward and, if her information was right and everything went as planned, it wouldn’t be that much of a bothersome job to get it. In fact, it would be quite a small price to pay. Mere loose change in comparison, to be honest.

Even if she was exited about it, Seren tried to keep her feet firmly on the ground. To don’t let her hopes rise too high. Just in case. She knew how much the fall could hurt and would rather avoid it.

Seeing as her fingertips were already wrinkled from all the time she had spent leisurely in the shower, Seren closed the tap and opened the fogged screen to pick the towel she had prepared beforehand. A nervous, ashamed chuckle left her lips followed by a little ‘oops’ when she noticed the huge bathroom filled with mist. She had spent way too much time in there. Such a waste.

After drying her skin and her hair just enough so it wasn’t dripping water everywhere, even if it was still wet, Seren wrapped herself with the towel, making sure it stayed in place before exiting the bathroom and going back to the bedroom. It was huge, with a king size bed all for herself, a night table with an elegant lamp on each side of it. There was a mini fridge and a bar, along with an antique desk and a vanity with a mirror. There was also a door that lead to a dressing room with full-body mirrors positioned so one could see how their ensemble looked without having to turn to check the back or sides.

It was a bloody guest room. Why would a guest room need it’s own dressing room? Why would anyone need a dressing room apart from their own bedroom?

Shaking her head to stop her mind from trying to find some kind of sense to rich people’s sense of utility, Seren practically strode towards the vanity. She was going to take advantage of another perk of being a special guest in that mansion: luxurious body lotions and other skin care cosmetics. Bela had said something about how providing those kind of utilities—one could even take them when they left—was Mrs Schubert’s power move.

Seren had just shrugged and accepted it. One should not check the teeth of a horse when it’s given as a gift, they say. She doubted those cosmetics were much different than the cheap ones she used, it was basic skin care after all, or that it would make much of a difference for one day she used them—she wouldn’t take them, Camille was already full with things and stuff—, but Seren would pamper and spoil herself rotten as much as she could while she stayed there. If everything went down hill and she hadn’t done so, she knew she would end up regretting it. This way, even if things went wrong, Seren had some bright points to focus on instead of the failures.

Fool’s consolation.

Just as she was massaging her face with a soft scented cream that made her rethink her no-taking-anything decission, Seren heard steps and low voices coming from the common living room she shared with Bela, as it served as connection between their rooms. Another design choice Seren didn’t understand, but didn’t dwell on it as much as with the general bedroom arrangement, even if it had it’s own fireplace.

A knock came from the closed door of her bedroom.

“I’ve brought the pair of studs you ordered, love.” Came Bela’s teasing singsong voice from the other side.

Studs?

“I didn’t order any studs.” Seren answered, her voice coming out only a bit less confused than what she actually felt. “I’m not wearing anything with cuffs for the gala, Bela.” She should know it better than anyone, she had prepared the dress Seren would wear. “Why would I want a pair of studs for?”

A burst of amused laugh came from the other side of the door, as if Seren had cracked the funniest joke ever. Which she didn’t. It caused the confused frown on her face to deepen slightly in frustration—and some extra confusion and a side of curiosity too.

Getting up from the vanity’s seat with a grumble as she finished rubbing the cream onto her skin, Seren walked to her bedroom’s door, wondering what her partner was up to, and opened it. Bela greeted her with a bright, mischievous little grin and a wave, two tall men dressed in fancy—yet a bit ridiculous, in her opinion—suits standing behind her.

Seren’s eyes widened slightly when she recognized Sam and Dean Winchester, both of them looking as taken aback of seeing her there as she felt, even slightly bashful. Dean’s eyes had gone wide open and Sam was even blushing as he tried to avert his stare from her, stealing little glances from time to time, awkwardly.

That’s when Seren remembered she was only wearing a towel.

Damn.

“A little warning next time you bring company would be nice, Bela.” Seren sighed closing her eyes for a moment as she tried to keep her composure, passing one of her hands though her hair, moving it so it fell down her left side.

“I did say I brought a pair of studs.” Bela answered with fake innocence, smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Didn’t I?”

Seren groaned, finally understanding why Bela had laughed so much at her response about the studs, leaning on the door’s frame and glaring at her so-called friend, who was having some good fun at her expense.

Giving up the staring contest she was having with Bela, glaring daggers at her and her coyly smile in the process, Seren turned her attention to Sam and Dean with a side glance, seeing the both of them looking their fair share of confused at the current situation.

After her little outburst at the creep’s apartment, Seren wasn’t ready to face them—not yet, not ever. The next morning, after some good rest, she had recalled her own words to the boys. To say she had felt mortified was a huge overstatement.

Even if it had happened several months ago, Seren still felt as horribly embarrassed as she had that morning. Lucky her, she knew how to keep it in even if she would have liked nothing more than to get away from there to avoid the Winchesters for a bit longer. A five-year period should be enough.

But there was no way out of the awkward encounter, much less with Bela observing the situation develop as if it was a TV show of sorts. She was only missing some butter popcorn to munch on.

“I didn’t call them here,” Seren told Bela, just in case she thought otherwise, before fully turning to the Winchesters. “So what brings you here, lads?”

They were there for the gala’s auction, that much was pretty obvious. There was nothing to hunt in that area, Seren had made sure of that much before getting there as a precaution. So, surely, one of the items had gotten the Winchesters’ attention.

Not all of them, but a fair share of the auctioned objects had supernatural properties, even if only to a small degree. Some were powerful but not really useful, while others were nothing more than simple charms—Seren could make more effective ones than those in a blink—made out of expensive materials.

The one Seren needed was a special case though. A rarity. Powerful and useful, specially for what she wanted. That’s why she hadn’t batted an eye before calling Bela to cash the favor she owned her in order to get in as soon as she discovered the gala was organized by none other than one of Bela’s regulars. It was a golden opportunity and Seren wouldn’t let it pass.

A little hunch told her that the item which got Sam and Dean’s attention was a different one than the one she was after, but it never hurt to confirm her suspicions. If they did happen to want the same artifact, the three of them might have more than a little problem, to put it lightly. But, if she was right about the Winchesters going after different one, they could cooperate. That way everyone would get what they wanted and go their merry way without causing any trouble to each other.

“Save the business talk for later, love.” Bela interrupted her thoughts, waving Seren off, making her frown at the thief. “You are the only one left to get ready for the gala and I’m pretty sure you don’t wanna miss the main event, love. So chop, chop!”

As she said the last part, and before anyone could do or say anything, Bela had practically pushed Seren into her back into bedroom, making her take steps backwards to do so.

Once inside, Bela swiftly closed the door behind her and on the Winchesters’ faces, a mischievous smile on her lips the whole time. She even giggled at Seren’s confused expression, shaking her head as if telling her to don’t worry about anything.

In a breeze, Bela had Seren’s dress ready, along with a pair of sensible heels and a pair of elegant long white gloves.

The thief had chosen their theme’s for the night. For herself, Bela had chosen what she had titled “the Widow’s look”: a strapless long black dress along with a sumptuous necklace, between other pieces of jewelry, that said “I may have killed my husband for the inheritance”. Seren had laughed at that description.

The theme Bela had chosen for Seren had been a starry-sky. Her dress was long and in a deep night blue color with what could be some sort of cape made of chiffon. It was a shade slightly lighter than the dress and it glittered under the lights.

Now that Seren actually payed any kind of attention to her complete ensemble, it reminded her of the movie _Anastasia._ To the dress Anastasia had worn to the ballet, only with just a few differences. For example, Seren’s dress had a queen Anne neckline instead of the simple strapless one from the movie, and it also had a slit that went up to a bit lower than the middle of her right thigh on the side.

For some reason, Bela was really insistent on helping her get dressed, commenting aloud— _way_ too loud, in Seren’s opinion—about how the dress fitted her, adjusting every detail from her underwear to the garter belts that held the stockings, and becoming more than a bit overbearing for Seren’s taste, making her complain more than a few times about it, insisting that she could do it by herself just fine without so much assistance.

At one point, when they were discussing how Seren should arrange her hair after drying it—loose, braided or updo?—Bela called for the Winchesters to come into the room to get their opinion on the matter.

For some unknown reason Seren couldn’t even begin to guess, they seemed a bit flustered, opening the door slowly and taking their sweet time to enter the room, looking everywhere but to where the women were.

Both brothers seemed surprised by Seren’s appearance when they finally looked in their direction. Sam’s expression in special took Seren by surprise.

It reminded her of Dimitri’s when he had seen Anastasia wearing the dress.

Almost huffing a laugh at the wishful thought, Seren looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as a shy little smile graced her lips.

“Just let it loose,” Dean grumbled after catching his brother’s mesmerized look and her reaction, rolling his eyes at them. “It saves time.”

“Loose is good,” Sam practically breathed before softly clearing his throat when he caught himself, standing a bit more straight as he added. “You always wear it braided. It would be a nice change.”

“You heard the boys, love.” Bela smirked, resting one of her hands on Seren’s shoulder to get her attention. “It’s time to let your hair down.” She added with a wink and a knowing look.

Seren gave her a puzzled one in return as Bela fixed her hair a bit, feeling like she was missing some hidden meaning in her friend’s words, but didn’t have much time to dwell on it as said friend guided her towards the vanity, making her take a seat as Bela offered to do her makeup for her since Seren’s usual style didn’t match nor the dress she was wearing, nor the gala they would be attending.

Before Seren could answer, Bela had already gotten to work. She did everything: applied a soft base, some discreet blush and highlights along with some eye shadow in a shade that complimented Seren’s complexion and eye color, bit of eyeliner, and lip gloss just a shade or two darker and rosier than Seren’s lips as the final touch.

Seren let herself go with the flow, seeing no use in resisting. She followed Bela’s instructions obediently, moving one way or the other, closing her eyes, and pressing her lips together to even the color between upper and lower one when told to.

Taking into account how much Dean had complained the last time she had put makeup on, Seren had expected a few complains about how long it was taking to get her ready. But to her surprise, he remained completely silent the whole time.

From time to time, Seren would notice Bela stealing glances in the Winchesters’ direction, a mischievous smirk on her face the whole time, even if it seemed like she was trying to hide it by biting her lower lip in fake concentration on her task. It was specially present when she was painting Seren’s lips, their faces a bit closer than necessary as Bela applied the lip gloss with the wand.

After she made Seren wear some fancy—and heavy—clip earrings, the thief finally let her get up and away from the vanity, even if a bit reluctantly as she tried to convince Seren to change her moon pendant for something more elegant. But Seren would hear none of it, just like when Bela had tried to talk her out of wearing her charm bracelet when she caught her putting it back around her wrist over the long gloves.

Finally, Seren was ready for the gala. Dress, spotless. Hair, parted, cascading down her left side, a pair of jeweled barrettes keeping the strands of the right side in place behind her ear. Her makeup was discreet and made her look... soft. Too soft. Seren wasn’t too enthusiastic about it, but it wouldn’t kill her.

When she turned towards the Winchester boys, ready to get back to business, she found them acting all awkward, avoiding looking at both herself and Bela. Sam even seemed a bit flustered for some reason. Dean, grumpy as always, just looked utterly annoyed in general, grumbling complains to himself.

Seren gave them a puzzled look, head tilted to a side, opening her mouth to ask what was wrong with them, but deciding otherwise. There were better things to discuss than the weird atmosphere.

Shrugging her confusion away, she asked the Winchesters what had brought them there, making Sam snap back to attention, stuttering that they were there for the auction, just as Seren had guessed. She didn’t comment on it though, just nodded for him to continue.

Seren would ask Bela later why she had helped Sam and Dean to get in. She doubted the cunning thief had done it without ulterior motives. Bela never did anything without a plan behind it, always plotting something to benefit from as much as she could. And Seren didn’t believe for a second that Bela would ever have thought that she would have called the hunters without asking Bela’s opinion about the matter first, considering it would affect their job.

If Seren and Bela had something in common, it was that the job was always a top priority for them. Everything else was secondary as long as they got what they wanted.

 

* * *

 

Bela had done that on purpose. To rattle them. Dean was sure of it.

She had been playing with them, teasing them by using Seren to put on a freaking show. He could tell the poor little witch had no idea what the other girl had done by the puzzled, confused look she had given at him and Sam after the makeup session.

Seren had no idea just how freaking sensual Bela had made it all look. From the comments she had made while ‘helping’ Seren get dressed, to the makeup session itself, Bela had done as she had pleased. Getting Seren close her eyes on command and moving her head one way or the other. The excuse of ‘checking her work’ for their face’s proximity. And the lip gloss.

Stupid. Freaking. Lip gloss, man.

“So we have a deal.”

Seren’s words brought Dean back to attention, realizing she and Sam had been talking while he was too busy cursing Bela’s little devices.

“What deal?” Dean was quick to ask, looking between his brother and Seren a bit frantically. “What deal?”

“Weren’t you listening?” Seren asked with a sigh, hand on her hip.

“I think he was a bit distracted, love.” Bela commented with a half smirk towards the Winchester.

“Distracted?” Seren tilted her head to a side, taking a look around, puzzled. “Distracted by what?”

“Nothing,” Dean cut rather harshly, earning a reproachful look from Sam. “What deal?” he asked once more.

“We’ll help each other,” Sam answered simply. “They’ll help us get the locket and we’ll help them get…” Sam cleared his throat shyly. “What was it?”

“A ring,” Seren answered with a nod before giving him a lopsided smile. “You distracted too, Sam?”

He laughed softly, looking aside for a moment as he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear.

“Our original plan was to create a little confusion—” By the way Bela had emphasized ‘little’ it was clear that what she had in mind was the complete opposite. “—right before the auction so we could check the goods.”

“Check?” Dean gave Seren a puzzled look.

“Info can be faulty, you know?” Seren said with a resigned shrug. “If the artifact isn’t what I’m looking for, there’s not reason to steal it. Is there?” She said nonchalantly. “I could also help you verify if yours is good or not, if you’ll like.”

“And why would you do that?” Dean squinted at her.

“Well,” Seren signed, frowning at his distrust. “I just thought you would appreciate someone confirming if the artifact you want will work or not when you’ll actually need it. As I said, why bother to steal it when it’s not what you want?” Seren raised her hand as if giving up. “But suit yourself, pretty boy.”

“If you can do so, we’ll do appreciate it, Seren.” Sam quickly intervened. He turned to his brother with a hard look. “Won’t we, Dean?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean conceded reluctantly. He was almost pouting “Sure. Whatever.”

He and Seren held a staring contest, both frowning at the other, until Bela cut it short, looping one of her arms around one of Dean’s, dragging him to the door as she reminded everyone present they had a charity gala to attend.

When she noted Sam and Seren standing still, Bela motioned between the two of them before pointing to her hand on Dean’s arms.

“He’s your partner tonight, love.” She said, almost rolling her eyes at the clueless expression Seren gave her. “Oh! And their family name is Baker tonight.” Bela remembered to tell before adding with a wink. “Don’t forget it, love.”

Seren did roll her eyes at Bela, making her laugh as she walked Dean out of the room.

“So,” Sam started after softly clearing his throat. “Shall we go?”

He offered his arm to Seren, a shy smile on his lips, but big enough to show his dimples. The gesture had caught her by surprise, it seemed, making her look between the offered arm and his eyes a few times before nodding slowly, lips pressed and a soft frown between her eyebrows. Seren looked like a child trying to figure a simple puzzle that seemed way to simple for it to be so. Sam had to hold back a snicker.

“Are you lovebirds coming or not?” Bela’s teasing voice called for them.

Seren answered back slightly flustered, walking the distance separating her from Sam in a pair of strides before softly resting her hand on his arm, giving him a questioning, unsure look though her eyelashes, as if asking if that was okay with him or not.

As soon as Sam shook his head, Seren’s hand was gone from his arm. Huffing a laugh, he reached for it doing his best to don’t be too forceful, specially when she gave him a surprised look at his action. Ever so carefully, Sam linked their arms before resting Seren’s hand back on his arm, patting it softly. It seemed to make her relax, a sigh leaving her lips before a flustered smile adorned her lips while her free hand tried to tuck a nonexistent lock of hair behind her right ear.

“Nervous?” Sam asked as they walked to meet the other pair.

“Not really,” Seren answered almost in a whisper, looking away.

“You sure?” he teased, giving their linked arms a little shake.

“Pretty sure, jolly giant.” Seren assured with a little laugh and a lopsided smile, poking his side with her free hand. “This is quite an easy job. Low risks, low stress.” Sam hummed in agreement. “And I can, and will, stuff my face with macaroons in compensation for being surrounded by, surely, pompous meaningless conversations.”

That made Sam laugh. Bela sighed, shaking her head good-naturedly at her friend, warning her playfully about not eating too much. Dean just huffed, frowning at everything that was in front of him.

Bela guided the group to the hall where the gala was being held—there were more than one hall it seemed—but when she and Dean turned a corner, they almost crashed into someone loitering around.

The pair’s eyes went wide.

In front of them stood a mime, ready for their performance. He apologized to them before asking for directions to the gala’s hall since the manor seemed like a maze to him.

“Oh, my.” Dean heard Bela mutter, amused. “This is gonna be good.”

“You bet,” the Winchester couldn’t help but to answer, thinking about Sam’s reaction at seeing a mime.

Bela arched a brow at him, as if asking how did he know or how much he knew, but before Dean could give her a thrown off look of his own, Sam turned the corned, asking for them to slow down a bit since Seren’s shoes seemed to be hurting her feet, even with the stockings on, and was trying to adjust them to prevent a blister from forming.

As soon as Sam saw the mime, he went completely still, eyes wide and mouth pressed in a firm line. The mime noticed, asking him if he was okay, not noticing he was the reason for Sam to not be okay. The younger Winchester could only nod, his expression remaining as it was, making the mime ask again, getting closer and making Sam take a step back, which only confused the poor mime more.

Dean gave Bela a look, like they were sharing a joke, but Bela’s expression was of understanding now that she had seen Sam’s reaction to the mime. By the smirk she gave Dean after, Bela knew something he didn’t. It made him curious. Her smile only widened when Seren’s footsteps could be heard getting closer down the corridor.

“Sorry for the wait,” she apologized with a sigh, going to stand besides Sam and taking his arm, only then noticing how tense he was. “Is something wrong?”

Nobody had expected what would happen, nor had any time to react and stop it.

As soon as Seren merely glanced at the mime’s painted face, maybe even before her brain had completely took the whole situation in, her fist went straight to mime’s stomach in a hook as she let out a small surprised screech.

All present heard the air leave the mime’s lungs in a whiz before his eyes went blank. He fell to the floor, unconscious, the lights completely knocked out of him.

A deep silence settled in, four pair of eyes fixed on the fallen mime.

After the few first minutes of initial shock passed, Bela burst out laughing, followed by Dean not much later. He even had to hold his sides. Sam just let out an amazed laugh out, a baffled smile on his face, looking between the mime and Seren a few times.

“Bloody hell,” Seren groaned, shaking the hand that had delivered the punch.

Now that her brain was able to take in the whole situation and what she had just done out of the blue, she looked distraught at the man she had just knocked out only because he had the face painted white.

“Why did you do that?” Sam asked. It should have sounded accusatory, but it didn’t. It sounded amazed, an impressed look on his face.

“Reflex reaction.” Seren shot before looking away, to the ceiling. “I… I hate… I hate clowns!” was her stuttered, frustrated confession, closing her eyes and making a grimace. “They are just so bloody creepy. Like, no. Just _no_.”

Dean caught the way Sam was looking at Seren now, as if he had found a kindred spirit that could also have his back in case of a crazy clown attack instead of laughing at him like his brother would do before actually helping him. And without the teasing from after too. Dean huffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“That’s a mime, love.” Bela pointed out when she finally could speak between the laughs, drying a stray tear from her eyes.

“Mimes are just French clowns,” Seren deadpanned, which only made Bela laugh more.

Rolling her eyes at the thief and crossing her arms tightly to herself, Seren almost begged, guilt clear on her face, “Can someone make sure he’s still breathing? Please?”

Seeing as Bela was still laughing—and barely breathing—and that there was no way Sam would get near the mime for the life of him, Dean was the one to check on the unconscious French clown, kneeling beside him.

Apart from messing his make up on the fall, somehow, and the small detail of being unconscious, he seemed to be just fine. Not even a growing bump on the head from the fall.

“He’ll live,” Dean assured, poking the mime’s face, making him snore slightly. Or groan in pain, it wasn’t too clear. “You can pack quite a punch, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” Seren hissed.

“Don’t call her that,” Bela and Sam echoed practically at the same time.

“Are you guys teaming up on me?” Dean asked, glaring at all of them, fake affronted—maybe. “I swear I’ll wake the mime if you are.”

Seren answered that threat with one of her own, a gloved finger tapping her pendant, arching an eyebrow and giving Dean a look, asking him if he was sure about his—clearly unwise—decision.

The hunter was quick to rise his hands in surrender and away from the mime.

“What’s going on here?!”

 


	9. Chapter 23 — Let the Show Begin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is late.  
> Life isn't behaving like it should.

> “ _What’s going on here?!”_

The group froze like kids getting caught doing something they shouldn’t, exchanging quick glances between each other, trying to come up with literally anything moderately believable to use as an excuse.

The unconscious mime laying on the floor by Dean surely wasn’t of any help.

They could hear quick, angry steps approaching them, then an alarmed gasp before the steps turned into a hasty stride. A man suited in a bright and sparkling red three piece full of sequin knelt besides the mime, making Dean get up and take a few steps away. The man in red started calling the mime’s name, Manny, as he tried to softly slap him awake, messing the makeup and getting it on his hand, to no avail.

“What happened?” The man in red asked the group, looking between them for an answer, his eyes open wide.

“Don’t know. We found him like this,” Bela was quick to answer, sounding causal with a hint of worry before adding. “He must have fainted. Is he okay?”

“Seems to be fine, just… out.” The man in red sighed. “Can you help me carry him to our room, please? A bed is better than the floor to recover on.”

Sam pushed Dean on a reflex reaction, making his brother take a step towards the men. The man in red automatically understood that Dean was offering himself to help carry his friend, quickly giving instructions on how they should do so.

Dean sent a glare in Sam’s direction, at which his little brother shrugged, mouthing a sorry he didn’t really mean. It was clearly written on his face.

The older Winchester sighed before following the man in red’s indication of carrying Manny’s torso, holding him under his armpits while the man in red carried his legs. Of course he would choose to carry the easiest part, having those twine arms of his.

“Low sugar, maybe?” Seren provided, keeping a safe distance as the group followed them to the artists’ room. “He should be fine in a few minutes.” She hoped. “Bring him some macaroons perhaps?”

Once Manny was laid on one of the individual beds of their shared room, his partner tried to wake him again. Seren couldn’t help but to take a quick look around in an attempt to distract herself, noting that that room was way smaller than hers and with no adjacent bathroom—much less a dressing room.

After a minute of trying to wake up his friend, the man in red gave up, starting to pace around the small room wishing for some smelly salts to magically appear so he could use them on the unconscious man.

The mime was out cold for good it seemed.

“Oh, Manny!” The man in red whined before checking his watch. “We are supposed to perform in fifteen minutes!” He messed his perfectly gelled-back blond hair with both of his hands. “You couldn’t have chosen a worse time to be unconscious, dude!”

Dean opened his mouth to make a snarky comment about how absurd—and cheap— it sounded to hire a mime as entertainment for this uptight gala, but Sam cut him with a look and a jab of his elbow, shaking his head dismissively at his older brother. Dean frowned at him, rubbing the sore spot where he had been hit.

“So you are the artists for the night,” Bela commented, her tone curious. “Right?”

She had said the question as innocently as she could, and it would have been taken as such if it wasn’t for the scheming glint in her eyes. None of the members of their little group had missed it. Seren even arched an eyebrow at her in question. The thief simply returned a conspiratorial smile that made a shiver run down Seren’s spine, feeling as if she was at her mercy. Which she might as well be.

“Yes.” The man nodded absentmindedly. “Some light performance before presenting the auction. We are in charge of that too.” There was a pause, his eyes going wide. “Oh, no.” He had gone slightly pale, hands to his head, messing his hair even more, distraught. “Oh, no! If we don’t act we won’t only have to give a full refund but we’ll also get a horrible critique from the Schuberts. The Schuberts!” He let himself flop on his bed, hands covering his face. “It’ll be our ruin!”

“And what kind of routine did you have in mind for tonight?” Bela’s eyes were practically shinning and Seren had a bad feeling about what it would involve for herself by the side glances the thief was taking her way. “Some juggling and magic tricks? Invisible box act?”

At her words, the man in red gave Bela an offended look. She was quick to apologize about it, waving it off as badly chosen terms. It didn’t erase his frown, but the man nodded even if noting that their performance would be much better than the cheap thing she might be imagining but that, yeah, it would be something of the sorts, basically.

Bela turned her attention fully towards Seren, a conspiratorial smile on her lips as she nodded her head in the man in red’s direction, motioning for Seren as if to go to the rescue.

The Winchesters caught this exchange, curious about its implication. They also saw the negative shake Seren gave as answer, her eyes opening slightly wider than normal before she frowned at Bela as she dismissed whatever idea she might have had. The thief arched an eyebrow, as if asking why she was being so difficult before insisting once more with a harsh look and a frown of her own.

“I _might_ be able to help,” Seren offered reluctantly with a resigned sigh, zero enthusiasm in her voice.

“You?” The man in red gave her a once-over. “How exactly? And, please, don’t say card tricks.”

“She definitely is good with magic,” Dean muttered, earning a jab on the side from Sam along a warning look.

This time Dean jabbed his little brother back.

“She’s—”

“Was.” Seren corrected dryly, arms crossed.

“—a professional performer.” Bela finished with a bright smile as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “Ever heard of Scarlet Sky Circus?”

That got the man’s attention, his eyes going wide and sparkling with slight interest. It was short lived though, disbelieve clouding his shinny eyes as he narrowed them, looking between the two women, one eyebrow arched, incredulous.

The Winchesters exchanged a confused look, wondering if the other knew what Bela was talking about. Something seemed to click in Sam’s memory, but nothing solid came to his mind, so he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head just enough so Dean caught the gestures.

“Small troupe, good quality.” The man in red said curtly, sitting up on the bed. “Saw one of their shows around 1997.” He crossed his arms and his legs, bouncing them softly. “Go on.”

“Perfect!” She celebrated, clapping her hands once. “Then you surely have seen the Falling Star in action. Have you not?”

“Oh… Yeah… Saw her performance.” Max said, remembering vaguely, making Bela brighten slightly. “Simple thing, nothing too fancy nor impressive, really.” Max added, making Bela’s smile waver for a moment. “What about that scrawny little thing?”

Seren’s brow twitched as she refrained herself from scowling at him.

“Well… Here we have her!” Bela gave her friend an apologetic look. It was crystal clear she had expected a different reaction from the showman. “None other than the Falling Star of Scarlet Sky Circus.”

Following her cue—and doing her best to ignore Max’s previous words—Seren drew a bright, flawless smile on her lips and bowed with what had been her signature flourish.

“I see.” The man said, getting up and rounding her. “Time has treated you well.” He stopped before her, clicking his heels together. “I hope it has done the same for your skills or you won’t be of any use. Maze-juggling, wasn’t it?”

“ _Kni_ _fe_ -juggling,” Seren corrected, keeping her business smile without it looking as strained as she felt.

She tried to calm herself thinking about how, surely, the performance the man had seen had been one of her firsts after a year and a few months of constant, intensive practice. It had taken her more than two years more—and a good share of scares—to learn her full routine, which was more than ‘merely’ juggling knifes.

Having a Spartan teacher like _tía_ Rosa also helped.

“Knives, knifes?” Max asked her, arching an eyebrow at her.

“Knives, knives.” Seren repeated in confirmation, her tone a bit harsh at the implication that she used fake ones. The gall!

“Really?” Dean couldn’t help but to ask in disbelieve.

“Who do you think I am, pretty boy?” Was Seren’s sassy reply, turning towards him and crossing her arms, head high.

“Prove it.” Dean dared, mirroring her.

In a blink, Max fetched three knifes and, after showing off the sharpness of the blades, handed them to Seren. She looked from them to Bela, who nodded encouragingly for her to show off a bit.

Resigned, Seren picked the knifes from Max’s hands and did a few tosses before picking the blades again.

She couldn’t help the little proud smirk that appeared on her lips when she saw the impressed expressions on both Winchesters’ faces. Dean’s only lasted a second, but it was more than enough for her to face Max again with a business, polite smile.

“Fine. That will do,” The showman admitted, waving at her dismissively, retrieving the knifes from her hands. “I guess.” He added in a mumble.

“It’s not like you have more options.” Sam reminded him, motioning to the unconscious, snoring mime.

“Not to mention you are kind of running out of time.” Bela’s reminder made the man curse. “But don’t worry, I’ll go talk with Mrs Schubert and get you, lovelies, some extra time to agree on a routine or something.”

“Yes! That would be great. Thank you.” Max celebrated as if that was the only useful addition she had made.

“Good luck!” Bela said cheerfully, specially directed at Seren before mouthing to her. “You’ll need it.”

“You don’t say!” Seren mouthed back with an exaggerated exasperated look.

Taking advantage of the showman being distracted by checking part of his equipment, Bela made mocking faces at his back, sticking her tongue at him. Dean almost uncovered Bela by snorting a laugh after seeing her, but she was quick to close the door before Max saw her. Dean faked a coughing fit.

“I’ll have to ask you, gentlemen, to leave as well.” Max said, giving the brothers a nasty look. “We have a show to save and I would hate to spoil the surprise effect.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to go after Bela, but leaving his enthralled brother alone with Seren—the unconscious mime and the man in red didn’t count—wasn’t the best of ideas. His instinct told him to don’t trust the girls’ unspoken plan, that he should keep a close eye on both of them, which was an impossible task at the moment. He couldn’t just divide himself and follow both of them.

Sam, on his part, was simply too curious about the kind of show Max and Seren could pull off in the last minute to simply leave. He could guess the man was some sort of magician or illusionist by his attire, and Seren had already showed her knife-juggling. Or at least part of it.

In the end, Max managed to practically kick the Winchesters out of the room. Seren stayed on a side, without taking part of the decision of kicking them out nor helping them stay. She was too busy checking the props the artists had around with a judgmental look. She did comment offhandedly about the tasty food at the gala though, telling them—Sam—to save her some macaroons for after the show just before Max closed the room’s door right on the brother’s faces.

 

* * *

 

“Sam?” Dean called, mouth full of canapes. “What’s that?”

The younger Winchester followed his brother’s stare to the dish in his hands.

“Macaroons,” Sam answered, showing them to Dean.

“I can see that,” Dean rolled his eyes. “What are you doing with them? Collect them? Trying to pass as part of the service? Because I can already tell you it’s not gonna work.” Dean picked a canape and stuffed it in his mouth. “You are too tall.”

“They are for Seren,” Sam told him, picking another macaroon from a passing tray.

Wasn’t it obvious?

Too obvious.

“Seriously?” Dean whined. “I thought you were over your little crush.” There was a pause before he let out a frustrated groan, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Please, don’t tell me her punching the lights out of that mime rekindled the flame.”

Sam’s answer was a twitch of a smile at the memory before picking a pink macaroon from another tray as it passed after checking he had none of that color on his dish. Since he didn’t know which flavor Seren would like, he wanted to have at least one of each so she could try them all.

“There you are!” the boys heard Bela’s voice before she appeared in their view. “Taking advantage of free food, I see.” She commented, looking at Dean’s chipmunk’s cheeks full of canapes. “Those are for Seren, right?” She guessed, pointing at Sam’s dish. “Not a bad selection, but avoid the green ones. They are pistachio.”

“She doesn’t like pistachio?” Sam looked troubled and Dean wanted to slap the back of his neck so he would snap out of it.

“She won’t really complain if they are a gift. Might even eat them,” Bela said. “But no, she doesn’t.”

Mouthing an oh and nodding in thanks, Sam picked the only green macaroon on his plate and ate it himself.

“You seem to know Seren quite well,” Dean commented, casually picking a handful of canapes as he saw the tray out of the corner of his eye, earning an annoyed glare from the waiter.

“And you seem to don’t know her well enough,” Bela returned with a smug smile. “Interesting.”

“How so?” Dean narrowed his eyes at her.

“That’s for me to know and for you to guess.” Bela winked at him.

“Are we playing guess games now, Bela?”

“We could, but first I have few errands to run or Seren will get a tad mad at me.” Bela answered. “With a bit of luck, you boys will get your locket without barely lifting a finger.”

“Shouldn’t you tell us the plan?” Sam pointed out.

“Maybe,” Bela conceded reluctantly with a nod. “But where would be the fun in that?” She added with an impish smirk. “Just relax and enjoy the show, boys.”

The lights of the whole hall went off, making some attendees to let out surprised cries or exclamations. Just when nervous murmurs started to swarm around, the room was illuminated with an extremely dim light while a blinding beam shined over a middle-aged woman wearing an astonishing baby blue dress that seemed to glitter under the lights.

Mrs Schubert, to be presumed.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she started harmoniously, but a high pitched screech drowned her next words, almost deafening everyone.

After sending an exasperated glare at the person in charge of the sound system, she resumed her speech, thanking everybody present and cracking a few jokes. Some laughed, or chuckled at the very least—out of politeness, surely. Sam and Dean had only exchanged a confused look at the woman’s words, not getting the joke, before ignoring the rest of her speech, searching around for Bela when they noticed her absence besides them.

Wherever she might be, it wasn’t near where they were. That much was clear.

Dean let out a curse that made him earn a few sideglanced glares from the stuck-up couple besides him. He ignored them, and Sam caught the double take the woman took their way, giving his older brother an appraising look.

“And now, before we commence with the auction, let me present you with none other than the Incredible Maximilian!” Mrs Schubert announced.

Just after she pronounced his name, a spotlight shone over Max, the red sequin sparkling under the light. He bowed to his public, who applauded his mere apparition, before turning to bow to the night hostess, saying how much of an honor it was to be part of this event.

He was talking about something, maybe telling a story as he made some tricks, a soft music accompanying the tale. The Winchesters weren’t paying any attention to him, too busy trying to spot Bela in the dim light or wondering where Seren was.

They didn’t have to wonder for much longer about her though.

The public exploded in applause as Max finished his act, bowing at them in thanks. As he rose he made a single rose appear in one of his hands with a swift movement.

Such a cheap trick.

“Now, _that_ , ladies and gentlemen,” Max started, waving the rose lazily around. “Was just a quick warm-up.” He made a pause for effect as he smelled the flower. “The real show starts _now_.”

He turned to face a side of the stage instead of the audience, kneeling and offering the single rose to the empty air. After a moment standing like that, Max let go of the rose and took a step back. Instead of falling, the rose seemed to stand in the air by itself, making some in the crowd let out an astonished gasp.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Max called with a quiet voice, as if to not disturb the balance of the rose. “Allow me to introduce my new assistant, the Falling Star of Scarlet Sky Circus!”

Then, the rose turned.

Better said, the black-gloved hand that was holding it made it turn right before it’s owner took a step into the spotlight.

Seren stood there, her appearance slightly different than when the Winchesters left her, altered for a more dramatic effect. She had changed her white gloves for black ones so she could create the levitating rose illusion. She was still wearing her night blue dress, the chiffon cape hooked up on her bracelet for an extra flair as she moved. Her hair was parted in the middle now, all loose, cascading down her back and sides in soft waves. To add a touch of mystery, or maybe to just conceal her identity, she had put on a half mask with feathers in black and blue hues so it matched the rest of her assemble. Surely she had gotten it from one of the serving staff. How? That was another story.

With her signature flourish, Seren bowed to her audience before doing the same towards Max, who bowed back. Sam and Dean noted that he looked slightly stiff after the ovation the girl had received from _his_ public. They even caught some excited whispers from people that seemed to recognize the girl’s stage name.

Max must have waved off any upsetting thought because his expression went back to the professional showman smile when he stood straight, even blowing a kiss in Seren’s way in an attempt to seem… close? It sure was completely improvised by the way Seren reacted to it with an almost imperceptible flinch of distaste.

Only the Winchesters seemed to have taken notice of it though.

After a first moment of disconcert, Seren pointed the rose at Max with one arm in response to the kiss and, with a swift motion of her other hand, the rose was transformed into a shinny knife, making the crowd gasp before applauding. It surely had taken Max by surprised, making him take a step back. He didn’t expect for Seren to even be able to pull off that sort of trick.

Satisfied by the general reaction to her trick, specially Max’s, Seren made the blade glint in the light as she tilted her head to a side, a warning or a dare to the man. It wasn’t too clear.

“I see all roses do have thorns,” Max commented to the public with a wink, trying to make light of his situation and disguise his discomfort of being outplayed.

Laughs came from the crowd and both Winchesters contained a tired scoff. Like that was funny.

Max proceeded to perform another routine while Seren practically stayed still, only following his instructions when told like the assistant he had said she was. When he finished, the showman basked in the applause of his public with a superior glance towards Seren, as if to make crystal clear _he_ was running the show there, not her.

Then came the part of the performance featuring knives: Seren would juggle them while Max threw them.

“But simply throwing knives to a target is no fun, right?” Max said to the crowd. They agreed. “So, to make things more interesting, I’ll need a volunteer. And, since I doubt anybody is gonna willingly come up here, I’ll let our light technician to pick one among all of you. Luz?”

A light went on, practically blinding both Sam and Dean. Startled, the brothers looked around, covering their eyes from the brightness, finding themselves under the spotlight, quite literally.

“I asked for one, Luz. Not two.” Max sighed humorously. From her post, the technician shrugged and the public laughed at their antics. “Fine.” Max accepted, rolling his eyes. “Any of you will do just fine, gentlemen. So I’ll just let you decide. Just don’t make us wait too long.”

The brothers looked at each other, both annoyed at this turn of events. Time for a quick round of rock-paper-scissors. They got ready and threw their hands. As always, Dean’s scissors lost against Sam’s rock.

Between grumbles and complains, Dean went to the stage, his mood only improving slightly when people started to cheer him after Max asked them to do so to rise his spirit. Dean ended up even waving around if only to avoid making a scene.

Instead of listening to Max’s indications for him to get onstage by climbing the side stair, Dean went up by the front with the help of his arms and a good jump.

“Someone is bragging of his built, I see.” Max commented making some in the crowd laugh and, specially women, giggle as they ogled the Winchester as he rearranged his clothes.

Just how low was the humor standard of this gala? Seriously.

Max motioned for Dean to stand before a sturdy board that had been set on a side, with his arms halfway to a T position and his feet apart. In a harsh, low voice, the showman instructed him to avoid any kind of movement, for his own security since he didn’t work with rigged props and the knifes he threw would be the real deal. Dean contained his urge to blatantly roll his eyes at the man, specially when he caught Seren stealing glances at him as she was already juggling three knives quite easily.

Was she thinking he couldn’t do it?

Dean held her stare with a slight frown

Of course he could. In fact, he wouldn’t even flinch.

Truth be told, it was easier said than done. That Max guy was too nervous for someone so sure of his own abilities. Luckily for Dean, the man in red was conscious of his own state, not taking any risks with his throws while trying to distract Seren from her juggling with silly banter.

The girl mostly hummed at whatever Max said to her or shook her head softly, easily juggling her knives around as she faced their public. She wasn’t even breaking a sweat, throwing the knives to the air left and right, passing them on her front and her back, alternating the way of tossing them around after Max commented how boring her initial, monotonous juggling was.

Dean caught a mischievous, happy smile on Seren’s face at Max’s annoyed expression as the crowd was more entranced by her act than his. She was even trying to conceal her smile, to keep the stoic appearance she tried to portray at the moment, by biting her lower lip to no avail.

The Winchester didn’t have much time to dwell on her smile though, unconsciously wondering about her circus days, when Max taunted Seren by saying that juggling three knives wasn’t as hard as throwing five of them around a person like he had done. His words had been barely a whisper meant to be heard only by Seren, but Dean had hear it too.

“Is this a question of numbers, dear?” Seren taunted back, the shy smile on her lips turning into an impish smirk. “Because I can definitely fix that.”

Then, she quickly spun around, still juggling the knives. When she faced the crowd again, she wasn’t juggling three knives but four.

The crowd gasped in awe and clapped as she kept juggling without much of a problem.

Not happy with that little stunt, Seren raised one of her legs, knee bent, making it peek though the slit of her dress. At first Dean, like everybody else, thought she was going to keep juggling on one leg to make it even more difficult yet. But something fastened on the garter belt of her raised leg caught their attention: a fifth knife.

Without taking her eyes from the ones in the air, her smile widening due the thrill, Seren picked the new knife in a split of a second, adding it to the lot she was already juggling around before firmly planting her feet back to the floor with a loud stomp.

The crowd applauded enthusiastically and Max glared at his assistant’s abilities.

But Seren wasn’t done yet.

“Or,” she muttered to the man in red, slightly adjusting her position onstage. “Maybe you think I lack the aim?”

Before anyone could react, one of her knives cut the air as she threw it towards Dean.

The room went completely quiet after surprised, alarmed gasps—and some screams—left the attendees’ lungs due the sudden action. Sam himself had even made to sprint towards the stage, stopping on his tracks with a relieved sigh when he realized Dean was still standing, unharmed, before the board.

Eyes wide and not daring to move yet, Dean took a look through the corner of his eye to see the blade stuck at his eye’ level, a bit too close for comfort. He turned his attention back to Seren just before she threw another knife at him, this time hitting the spot right between his arm and his torso. It was way closer to his armpit than the one Max had thrown.

If he thought not flinching with Max’s throws had been difficult, standing still while Seren threw the knifes was even harder. Her calm and confident expression, only disturbed by the smug smirk still adorning her lips, was more nerve-wracking than the showman’s insecurity.

If Seren noticed the tension the hunter felt, she ignored it as she kept throwing the rest of her knives in a quick succession. The first two mirrored the previous ones, while the last knife went between Dean’s legs. But not at knee level like Max had thrown, no. That would have been too easy. If it wasn’t clear that Seren wanted to upstage Max for belittling her expertise with the knives, her last throw had left her intentions pretty clear as the blade almost grazed the crotch of Dean’s dressing pants.

To say the hunter had gone slightly pale would be the understatement of the night. Dean was so shocked he let Max practically drag him to the side stairs so he would get down the stage.

“Crazy witch,” Dean growled once he was besides Sam, who had gone to him. “Did you see that?”

“I’m sorry, Dean. But that—” Sam laughed breathlessly as his eyes remained on Seren as she bowed her thanks to the public. “—was awesome.”

Dean let out an affronted gasp, “I’m hurt, Sammy. I’m hurt.”

“Without further ado,” Max started, a tense smile on his face while a vein on his neck threatened to pop. He was still sending glares at Seren as she stood besides him, composed. “Let’s begin with the auction. The first lot of the night—”

“Enjoyed the show, boys?” Bela’s voice sounded behind the Winchesters.

“Where did you go?” Dean snapped.

“Relax, Dean. I’ve told you.” The girl rolled her eyes at him. “I had things to do for our little plan to work. Also, did you enjoy being part of the performance? No need to thank me.”

“That was you?”

“Luz is such a sweetheart.” Bela smirked. “Best twenty bucks I’ve spent this month.”

“You little—”

“What! I needed some more time,” she excused herself. “If it was any other person instead of one of you two, Seren wouldn’t have risked to pull that stunt off. Too jumpy, too risky, she said.” Bela huffed. “Still, she rushed through it. I almost didn’t make it.”

“That Max guy was being a jerk,” Dean muttered, glaring at the man as he allotted the second object of the auction. “Wait a minute. Her throwing knifes at me was freaking planned?!”

“Weren’t you listening?”

“Stop it.” Sam cut in before Bela could say anything more. “Both of you.” He added turning to his brother.

“Oh! So you are okay with it?” Dean asked.

“If we get what we need, yes.” Sam said. “It’s not like Seren was going to hit you.”

Dean gave his brother a bewildered look that Sam missed, too busy following the auction to even look at him.

Another lot went by before an attendant brought to the stage the locket the Winchesters needed, setting it on a pedestal for show. Still in her roll of assistant, Seren motioned for the item while Max read its description card before starting the bidding. Sam was sure Seren was staring in their direction even if her eyes were hidden by her mask.

“That’s the locket, right?” Bela whispered besides him.

Surprised, Sam turned to look at her as he nodded in confirmation. After returning the gesture, Bela cleared her throat, covering her mouth before tucking away a lock of hair behind her ear, her eyes fixed on Seren the whole time. Feeling something was going on, Sam turned to the woman onstage, only to find her mirroring Bela’s gestures, coughing softly and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before resuming her theatrical flourishes to show off the locket.

Yet nothing seemed to happen. The auction proceed and, once sold, the locket was taken off the stage while the next item was brought over.

“Got it,” Bela whispered with a satisfied smile.

“What are you talking about? She did nothing!” Dean whispered back, glaring at Seren for letting their prize go.

“If you really believe that, then you weren’t paying attention.” Bela retorted with a tired tone.

Whatever Seren had done, and Sam and Dean had missed, it earned her a proud look from the thief.

 

* * *

 

Finally, the auction was over and Seren could get off the stage and, more importantly, away from Max. The man had become way too annoying after talking with Mrs Schubert, going from trying to ridicule her skill to insisting—not asking—for her to become his assistant.

Like hell she would.

She stormed into her room, getting rid of the mask and throwing it on the bed. The girl that had given it to her didn’t need it back, so Seren didn’t feel like being careful with it.

The missions had almost been in danger just because she had let Max’s words provoke her into showing off. There was something about people badmouthing her skill with the knives that made her become petty in a blink. The plan had been for her to buy Bela some time so she could prepared the doubles with a few charms by being extra theatrical. If only she hadn’t rushed her throws because of that stupid Max, Bela wouldn’t have needed Lady Luck on her side to get everything just in time.

“There’s our star of the night!” Bela cooed, hugging Seren from her back and plating a kiss on her cheek. “Wonderful performance as always, love.”

“It should have gone way better and you know it.” Seren sighed, frustrated by her own behavior. She was even pouting.

“Such a perfectionist,” Bela hummed, pinching Seren’s cheek playfully.

Seren swatted her hand away even if a smile ghosted her lips. It never really formed as she noticed Sam and Dean standing by the door. As always, Dean was glaring at her, making Seren wonder what had she done this time to earn it, a little hunch telling her his scowl wasn’t just because she had thrown a few knives at him.

It didn’t take her long to guess the answer when she saw Sam’s expectant expression.

“Here,” she said, extending one of her hands, the locket resting in her palm.

A wide smile adorned Sam’s lips when his eyes fell on the object, looking between it and Seren in happy disbelieve.

“You really got it,” he breathed as he picked the locket from her hand.

“How?” Dean screeched, eyes wide in a different kind of disbelieve than his brother’s. “When?”

“Such a rookie,” Bela mocked him. “Did you really think all those flourishes were _just_ for show?”

“Oldest trick in the book,” Seren sighed, taking off one of her gloves. “Now it’s time to check the goods.”

“Didn’t you say it would be pointless to steal them without checking them first?” Dean pointed out.

“This isn’t stealing.” Bela huffed. “Not yet, at least.”

“Then what do you call it?”

“Property misplacement,” the thief shrugged like it was no big deal.

Dean gave her a deadpanned look.

Bela gave him an innocent smile back.

“May I?” Seren asked Sam, completely ignoring the other two.

She extended her naked hand for the younger Winchester to drop the locket on its palm so she could make a quick scan of the objects properties. If it had any sort of magic, she would be able to sense it. _Tía_ Rosa taught her how to do it.

The Winchester complied.

Seren turned the hand with the locket into a fist, trapping it there. Then, she closed her eyes in concentration, a small frown appearing between her eyebrows. She could hear Dean and Bela bickering in the background, causing her to get a bit distracted. Thankfully, Sam was there to stop them and Seren couldn’t be more grateful for it.

As the minutes passed, Seren’s frown deepened.

“I don’t feel anything from it.” Her eyes opened, only to give Sam an apologetic look. “I don’t think this is the artifact you are looking for. I’m sorry.”

Seren returned the locket to Sam, letting it fall in his extended hand. Sam turned it so he held it with two fingers and brought it closer to his face to inspect it.

“Are you sure?” He asked, turning the locket around before staring at her intently.

Those defeated puppy eyes were completely unfair.

“Not one hundred percent,” Seren admitted rather reluctantly.

It’s not that she wanted to give him any sort of false hope. False hope would do nothing for him nor his brother. But not sensing anything didn’t always mean there wasn’t something, anything, just out of her reach. Hidden.

Hiding.

_Never lower your guard, princess. You’ll live longer._

“I wouldn’t go betting my life on it.” Seren said as she pointed at the locket, listening to her hunch and ignoring the memories. “But that’s just my opinion. You can keep it to run some tests if you want. I won’t tell.” She added with a little smirk.

“What about the ring?” Bela asked, going besides her. “It’s what you were looking for?”

The interest in her voice surprised the Winchesters, not expecting for the thief to care like that about someone that wasn’t herself. They looked between the two girls, wondering how they seemed so close and about the pieces of information they were missing.

“Let’s check it out, I guess.” Seren shrugged, resigned to whatever outcome may be waiting for her.

No point in postponing her disappointment. Right?

With a movement as if doing a magic trick, Seren retrieved the jeweled ring from its hiding place between her clothes, trying not to relish too much on Sam’s impressed reaction nor Dean’s annoyance.

Seren held the ring in her fist and closed her eyes. Unlike the locket, she could feel something from it. A charm, maybe. Pressing her lips in a tight line, her frown deepening, she pushed a bit harder, trying to assess both the kind of charm and its power. That only caused some sort protective spell to activate as it sensed a possible menace to its vessel, causing the ring to heat up.

But Seren didn’t let go of it. She wouldn’t let it go. Not until she got the answers she needed from it.

Once she had them, evaluation finished, she dropped the jeweled ring to the floor, hissing and shaking her hand to cool it.

“Are you okay?” Both Sam and Bela asked Seren, alarmed.

“Peachy,” she answered with a tense smile.

It had taken Seren just a quick look at her hand to see there was no real damage on it. Her skin was intact yet the burning sensation persisted.

A sensory illusion, of course. Cheap trick yet absurdly effective when done right.

“That one definitely has some magic on it—” Seren started saying.

“That’s great, love!” Bela celebrated, hugging her.

“—just not the right kind.” Seren finished with a sad, resigned smile.

Bela awkwardly let her go, mouthing an oh before trying to cheer her up. But her eyes kept drifting off from Seren’s to the ring on the floor.

“Yes, you can keep the ring.” Seren signed with a soft smile.

“You know me so well, love.” Bela cooed, pecking Seren’s cheek before picking up the ring and putting it away cheerfully.

“Where did the ‘not stealing if it’s not what you are looking for’ go?” Dean noted, crossing his arms and giving both girls a hard, judgmental look.

“Like I was gonna give one of my best performances for free, pretty boy.” Seren said with a lopsided smile. “Now, we should get going before anyone notices the swaps. But first,” Seren pointed at the dish with macaroons that Sam was carrying. “Are those for me?”

Sam gave her a bright smile as he handed her the treats, making Dean roll his eyes and Bela to snicker at the whole scene. Seren just picked one of the macaroons and ate it with a delighted expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rushed my way through this chapter so, if you have some time, I would really appreciate some feedback. I think it turned out okay, but I'm the author. It's not the same what I think I wrote and what I've actually written.
> 
> Since life isn't behaving, I can't guarantee even the each-two-weeks update. I'll try to keep it, but I can't promise anything. Just to let you know.  
> As always, thank you for bearing with me.


	10. Chapter 24 — Missing…

Another day, another dollar.

Luckily for Seren this had been a calm kind of day. No big case. Just a consultation job for one of Bobby’s contacts. She had been close by the hunter’s location when Bobby had called her, explaining that a hunter he trusted was having some difficulties cracking a curse, and that he was too busy with another case at the moment to lend a hand.

So she had gone to meet the hunter in question, a skeptic kind of person, yet not the type to refuse help when offered by a trusted source. After spending the whole afternoon researching and checking, double checking and arguing, Seren had finally convinced the hunter that she, the expert in the bloody room, was right about which kind of curse they were dealing with and how to bloody break it.

Just when Seren had thought her job done and that she could leave with only a slight headache, the hunter had refused the protective charm she had made specifically for the occasion when she handed it to them, arguing that the young woman had crafted it way too fast for the thing to actually work.

Like hell Seren would send anyone against a weird curse without some kind of protection. Much less with a faulty one!

Trying not to get that comment and the distrustful look the hunter gave to the charm get to her, she insisted for them to just take it, practically shoving the item into the hunter’s chest when they kept refusing it.

“Look. Just… Just take it, okay?” Seren waved the beads and runes hanging from a leather string that made up the amulet. “You take it and it works? Great! That it does nothing? Which I can guarantee won’t happen,” she assured firmly. “It’ll be like you didn’t wear it in the first place. It’s a win, win case! You can even hook it up on your belt, so it’s not like it’ll take much space or hinder your movements.”

Slightly convinced but still looking suspiciously at the charm, the hunter took it, examining it with critical eye. Even if theirs weren’t the right shade, Seren couldn’t help but to be reminded of another pair of green eyes looking distrustful at her craft. When they started sniffing the leather, she rolled her eyes hard at the similarity.

Maybe it was just a hunter thing.

“If you don’t want it, just throw the bloody thing away. I’m done here,” Seren sighed, raising her hands in surrender before leaving the motel’s room, practically slamming the door behind herself only to open it again, her head pocking thought it. “But you better do so somewhere I won’t find it. Understood?” She added, pointing with an accusatory finger before closing the door again, this time softer.

Seren would have sworn she heard the hunter snort a loud laugh after her last exit.

Huffing slightly in annoyance and with a faint frown on her face, Seren stuffed her hands in her jacket’s pockets and left the place. She decided to go for a small walk, to get some fresh air along with some snacks before having to return to the motel, pick up Camille and leave the city.

The cold air of the streets made Seren adjust the lapels of her jacket to better cover her neck after a wisp of wind made a shiver run down her spine. For a moment, Seren wondered if she could use her braid as a scarf, chuckling at the thought. Then, she actually tried the strange idea, earning a few weird stares and some chuckles as she wrapped the braid around her neck.

Seren couldn’t help but to shake her head in amusement when she found out it actually did protect her neck from the cold, but wouldn’t stay in place on its own. Her braid wasn’t long enough yet. Close, but still not enough. If only she had a barrette or a few bobby pins on her.

So distracted was Seren by her silly occurrence and discovery that she bumped into a woman that passed by her side. With a shy laugh, the young woman simply apologized on automatic, without even taking a look at the other person as she kept walking, thinking none of it as she wondered if she could find some bobby pins in the nearest 7-Eleven.

Big mistake.

In a blur of movement, Seren found herself being held face first against the wall of a building, hidden from passerby’s eyes. Her arms were twisted behind herself, painfully. Something was slid around her wrist and tightened, tying them firmly together. Immobilized.

There was a quiet laugh when Seren tried to fight against her ties, her breathing becoming hasty due the shock. Her face betrayed nothing of it though.

“That’s no way of apologizing, dear.” A woman’s voice taunted on her ear. “I thought I taught you better, _Jude_.”

Seren froze, a violent shiver running though her whole body—from head to toes.

The cold had nothing to do with it this time.

It was the woman’s voice.

_Her_ voice. The one that haunted her nightmares along with Blake’s. She had been his partner after all. And Seren’s tormentor.

Fletcher.

“It’s been so long, my dear.” The woman whispered on her ear, spitting the endearment as one of her hands gripped tightly Seren’s left shoulder, pinning her firmly against the wall. Seren could hear the mocking smile on her lips when the woman asked. “Did you miss mother?”

Seren tried to get free and fight back. Her arms might be tied at her back, but that didn’t mean she was completely defenseless. She had spent the last decade training to become stronger. To be able to overcome anyone in a situation like this one.

But Fletcher was still way better that her. A veteran, seasoned in fighting both for sport and for her life, and she held a better position.

The woman kicked Seren’s legs, making her fall to her knees, head hitting the brick wall on her way down, a scratch burning on her cheek making her hiss.

Fletcher clicked her tongue in disapproval before getting a hold of Seren’s left shoulder once more, her grip tighter than before. She pushed her against the wall, the woman’s thumb pressed on a particular spot on the girl’s back. A harsh reminder that she knew what lay hidden beneath the layers of clothes.

_Mother is doing this for you, my dear. To safe that damned soul of yours. So be still and be grateful._

Seren forced herself to bite back a whimper at the memory, hiding it behind an aggressive growl. That was all the breath she would waste on Fletcher. Not like she would listen to any word Seren had ever said.

She never had.

“Because mother surely has not missed her little abomination,” Fletcher growled with disgust.

Sharp nails scraped Seren’s scalp as a hand gripped her hair before it crashed her head against the wall, pain flaring and slowly drowning her world in darkness while a chilling soft laugh reached her ears.

 

* * *

 

The boys had just left the room once they had packed all their things, Dean practically fuming as he swore to hunt Bela down after she stole the Colt from them.

Bobby still had some packing of his own to do before returning home when his phone went off, an unknown number appearing on the screen.

He answered it.

“Hello!” the voice of a young man greeted him with a squawk and some stuttering. He cleared his throat before continuing “Is… Is this Singer Bob?” Bobby arched an eyebrow, confused. Not that the other person could see him. “I mean! Is this Bobby… Robert! Is this Robert Singer?”

“Who’s asking?” the old man frowned, more in confusion than annoyance.

“Ethan Flinch, sir.” The young man answered still stuttering slight. He sounded way too tense and nervous. “I’m… I’m Seren’s friend, sir. I… I believe we’ve already… met.” It sounded more like a question than an affirmation. There was a pause. “Didn’t we?”

“Yeah, we did. ‘98. Wendigo.” Hard to forget the back then lovestuck teenager following Seren’s every move with his gaze like a lost puppy. And that had been before she had saved him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m… I’m afraid Seren might have gone missing, sir.”

“What?”

Bobby finished packing his things as Ethan filled him in on the situation. How Seren had agreed to pay him a visit when she was finished with what she had called a little errand that Bobby had assigned her. How he had waited not only the time Seren had estimated it would take her to get to his home, but also a day or two more as the young woman had instructed him to wait, just in case she ran into unforeseen circumstances that wouldn’t be considered an emergency just yet. It wouldn’t have been the first time she was late to one of their meetings only to call the next day or so, apologizing like crazy and cursing whatever the hell had held her up for making her be late and unable to call him sooner.

But she hadn’t called this time, much less shown up at his place, and that was a first. An alarming first.

“I’ll take care of it.” Bobby assured, his mind already running possibilities of where and how to find Seren.

“Great! Good. Thanks a lot, sir.” Ethan said with a sigh and a nervous laugh. “Please, tell Seren to give me a call or message me when you find her.”

“Sure do,” Bobby said before hanging up, trying not to sound too tense.

He had learned to don’t be as optimist as the young man was being at the moment when someone went missing in his line of work. Not like he would simply give up.

After trying to reach Seren’s multiple phones, just in case, Bobby made a few calls. Helen and Jo hadn’t heard anything from Seren for more than a few weeks. He even tried reaching the girl’s aunt, but her phone was busy.

As a last resort, Bobby dialed the number of who could have been the last person to have seen Seren. As soon as the hunter picked up the phone, they greeted Bobby cheerfully, complimenting profusely Seren’s abilities, remarking between laughs a certain charm she had made in a blink that had worked wonders.

Having to cut the hunter’s endless praises and thanks for sending Seren their way, Bobby could finally ask them a few questions. Where and when was the last time the hunter had seen Seren, and if they had noticed anything suspicious around, specifically.

All joviality left them as they answered they had known nothing of her after she left their room nor seen anything, or anyone, suspicious lurking.

“I’ll call you if I hear anything through the grapevine.” The hunter promised.

Bobby would have preferred they hadn’t said that. If they heard anything about Seren, considering the circles they moved in, their call wouldn’t bring any sort of good news.

“She’s a good gal,” they added rather solemnly before hanging up.

It sounded like they were giving him condolences.

Throwing the phone on the copilot seat, Bobby got in his car and drove to the last location Seren had been seen: a little motel in Rock Hill, South Carolina.

As soon as he was reaching the place, already on the same street it was located, the old man let out a string of curses as he pulled over, his eyes fixed on a moss green van parked in front of the motel, not even in the parking lot.

Almost a whole week had passed since Bobby had asked Seren to help in that curse case. Five days since the hunter had last seen her. And she was clever enough to never stay too long around the same area, much less leave her dear Camille there for five whole days.

Something felt utterly wrong.

Bobby let out a colorful curse as he rummaged in his glove box, picking up one of his fake badges, getting ready to inquire a few people, starting with the motel’s owner. He would also have to check the security footage in a radius around the motel to try tracking Seren’s last activity or anything suspicious that might give him any sort of clue of what had happened to her. He was ready to get the access the hard way if people didn’t cooperate, wishing that all that would be enough to find Seren save and sound.

Or, at least, still breathing.

 

* * *

 

“Understood. We’ll be on the lookout for her. Good luck, Bobby.”

Even with his music almost drowning Sam’s words as he spoke on the phone, Dean noticed the strain, the tension on his brother’s voice. Stealing a quick glance his way, he could see a deep, worried frown on Sam’s face as he practically glared at the device in his hands, his fingers fidgeting on it, shaking slightly.

“Something wrong, Sammy?” Dean asked after lowering the radio’s volume and motioning to the phone. “Who was it?”

“Bobby.” Sam bit on his lower lip, considering how to say the next words.

“Did he get in trouble again?” Dean tried to joke, but it only made Sam’s frown to deepen.

“Seren’s missing,” Sam blurted.

“Oh,” Dean took a turn to the right on the crossroad. “Okay.”

“Oh, okay?” Sam turned to face his brother, incredulous. “Seriously, Dean?”

“What! I’m sure it’s no big deal.” He assured with a shrug. “Most probably she messed with the wrong people, didn’t tell Bobby, and now she’s going under radar until things calm down.” Dean let out a huff. “Maybe she’s with Bela. In a cozy hideout. Painting each other’s nails and gossiping.” Dean scoffed.

“Or maybe someone has hunted a witch.” Sam spat harshly, trying to make his brother see the gravity of the situation.

“Nah, she’s way too clever for that.” Was Dean’s answer, trying to sound nonchalant while his grip on the wheel tightened at Sam’s words, knuckles going white for a moment. “And Bobby is already searching for her, isn’t he?” Sam nodded. “If anyone can find her, even if she doesn’t want to be found, that’s Bobby. Now let’s concentrate on our own case, shall we?”

Dean pulled over on the dirt road, getting out of the Impala at the same time Sam did. He stepped besides his brother and motioned beyond the side road, where a solitary and abandoned shed stood in the middle of nowhere, nothing more than a small spot on the horizon, almost hidden by a few scattered trees.

It took them more that it seemed to reach the place, yellow police tape loosely blocking the entrance and windows even if the authorities were done examining the place. Or so said the reports they had… Let’s say ‘obtained’.

The local news stated that a bunch of high-school kids had traveled all the way there, in the middle of the night, to mess around with some alcohol and black magic, only to get the scare of their lives. But not the kind they were looking for.

It had started as a classic terror night. Ouija session in the rundown shed where urban legends told a man had gone insane, killed his family believing they were just cattle, then hanged himself on the spot when he regained his senses. Some versions of the legend said that, now, the man hunted the place, weeping for his family forgiveness; in others, there was a full spectral recreation of the events, the man killing his family in a bloodlust frenzy while they screamed and begged. Some even said the man had been possessed to do what he had done.

But those were only stories The Winchesters had verified them all on their way there, checking for apparitions and past possession cases in the area. None true. Just a bunch of stories to tell with a flashlight at night. The most violent real event they had found evidence of happening there had been a farmer shooting another during a land dispute. No deaths.

When the teenagers had reached the shed, some had taken notice of a weird smell in the air. They got shrugged off by other members of the group, believing they were trying to pull their legs for a scare already.

Once inside, they had found the place covered in weird symbols, the before faint smell now stronger and more recognizable even if mixed with others.

Blood.

The doors had slammed shut on its own, loudly, only for them to open again even if there was no wind that night.

All of the kids had heard something growling menacingly. Some said it came from the outside; others, from inside the shed. One of them swore they had seen red eyes in the darkness when they had peeked out a window. Another had seen them inside the shed, staring at them steely from a corner. The rest had seen nothing.

The bravest—or more foolish—of the group were loving the turn of events, asking who’s idea it had been for the whole set up, and who was the one pretending to be a half dead person tied to a chair right in the middle of a salt circle while other asked how much that realistic mannequin had cost.

“As soon as they realized it was real, they called 911.” Sam went over his notes as he and Dean checked the symbols drawn all over the shed. “The person they found was, and I quote, ‘miraculously alive after days of torture and starvation’.” Dean let out an impressed whistle. “They are recovering at a hospital in Columbia. Identity undisclosed. Authorities have evidences to believe it’s a cult thing and that they might try again if they find out their victim survived.”

With just a simple look, the Winchesters could tell someone had carried out an exorcism in there.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Dean huffed, checking the heavily disturbed salt circle, erasing part of it with his foot. “Someone went though a lot of trouble to ward this place against demons for just a simple exorcism.”

There were all the anti-demon symbols the boys knew of and then some. Hidden charms. Herbs. You name it, it might be in there. They could even smell what remained of some sort of cleansing incense. Whoever had warded that place had even used goofer dust and devil’s shoestring, so they would be stopping not only demons but also their pets.

“And what kind of hunter would carry out something like this and leave the victim dying, tied to a chair?” Sam wondered in disbelieve, trying to come up with a scenario where something like that would happen. He failed. “We must be missing something here, Dean.”

And Dean had found it.

Lost between the salt and dirt, was a familiar bracelet adorned with charms, some of them made of silver. Squatting down, he picked it up, seeing the silver chain broken, the relatively new clasp still holding both pieces together and some dry blood on some of the charms.

After getting up and catching his brother’s attention, Dean showed him his finding.

“Isn’t that Seren’s?” Sam said, going near Dean in a few long strides, taking the bracelet from him.

He observed the accessory, broken during a struggle, his brows knitting together as he noted the blood stains on the charms, his eyes snapping to Dean’s as he gave his older brother a distraught look.

“I don’t think she was the victim here, Sammy.” Dean sighed. “The police report stated they had multiple old scars.” He remarked. “Seren has none.”

“Are you sure?” Sam arched an eyebrow towards his brother.

“I think we would have noticed a burn scar on her face long ago, wouldn’t we?” Sam nodded slowly, and a bit reluctantly, admitting Dean was right on that. “Now we have found our dear missing witch’s whereabouts and the reason this scenario doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

Dean practically stormed out of the shed, a snarl on his lips, going back to the Impala.

“What’s wrong?” Sam was close behind him.

“You said it yourself, Sammy.” Dean started, speeding up his steps. “What kind of hunter would let a possession victim to die after a successful exorcism?”

“You don’t mean—”

“That Seren messed up an exorcism, driving out the hunter or something worse? That what’s recovering in a hospital as we speak is not a victim but a demon keeping pretense?” Dean grumbled. He was practically running now. “Because that’s exactly what I mean!”

“She wouldn’t do that, Dean.” Sam said softly, once they reached the Impala. He couldn’t believe she would. “She—”

“She’s a witch, Sam!” Dean yelled as he yanked open the driver’s door. “You can’t trust her! One moment she’ll be playing nice, and the next she’’ll be making deals with demons to save her own skin.” He got in the car, Sam doing the same. “And now we know witches become actual demons when they die, so she might as well be earning her ranks now for when that happens. Safe some time and start at a higher level.”

Sam said nothing to that, letting his brother drive them to the hospital in a deep silence, only broken when Dean turned on the radio to blast some classic rock to calm his nerves.

If Dean’s theory was right, they had a demon to deal with, a witch to hunt and some hunter to help if they weren’t too late.

Sam let out a heavy sigh.

He took out his phone and looked at it, debating whether to call Bobby to give him an update of the situation, or not. To tell him that they had found Seren’s bracelet and what it could mean, or just wait until they knew, without a doubt, what had really happened in that shed.

He opted to wait, storing the device in his pocket before resting his head on the back of his seat, closing his eyes with a deep sigh and letting Dean’s rock music drown out his thoughts.

No point in giving the old man bad news when nothing was certain at that point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life still isn't behaving, so I'll let chaos reign.  
> I'll try to update a chapter a month even if just to show that I'm still alive and kicking. But no more fixed deadlines. I feel like I'll burn out if I keep tryint to meet them and I'll have to drop this fic for a long time to recover. I definetly don't want that to happen.  
> As always, thank you for bearing with me and my moods.  
> Have a lovely day.


	11. Chapter 25 — …and Found

Not even an hour later after Sam and Dean left the shed, they arrived at the hospital the victim had been taken to in Columbia, South Carolina. It had been considered the closest one with the equipment and professionals necessary to keep the ‘miraculously alive’ person among the living.

Unless Dean’s theory about the person in question being possessed by a demon was correct. In that case, it wouldn’t have mattered to which hospital the paramedics had taken the victim to, the demon inside them would make sure the meatsuit they were using would recover slowly enough to still seem a normal human, even if they could simply get up and walk away as if nothing had happened. The demon had to keep pretending to avoid even more attention.

With that possibility present in their minds, Dean parked the Impala in the hospital’s parking lot. He and Sam got out of the car, both of them donning their fed suits, badges ready in their pockets along with some holy water and rosaries. They would surely need them for a quick on the go kind of exorcism. Better safe than sorry.

Since the authorities in charge of the case had kept the victim’s identity a secret even to the media, the Winchesters deduced that the hospital’s personnel would be warned about not allowing unauthorized visitors in the room. They might have even posted guards by the door.

So the clever approach would be to take the case from the local police by making it fall into federal jurisdiction. An easy lie, really. Sam and Dean just had to argue that the cult had kidnapped and killed before, years ago even, in different states and—bam!—the case was theirs for the taking. If anyone complained, the Winchesters would refer them to their superior. A quick call to Bobby would be more than enough to give the boys the go-ahead.

With sure, commanding strides, the boys walked to the crystal slide doors of the hospital’s entrance. They opened as soon as the sensors detected their presence, letting them in to an ample entrance hall of restrained architecture, some potted plant—not sure if real or plastic—scattered here and there to make the place slightly more lively.

The boys took a quick look around as they searched for the reception desk.

It seemed like a quiet kind of day. There were a few people walking around, going to where they were supposed to be, or still searching for where that place could be. All with different expressions on their faces. Some had taken a seat, waiting. Others simply stood.

A mother was trying to calm her bored little boy so he would behave, saying that they should take his dad for a nice meal to celebrate he was being discharged, hinting at the possibility of ice cream for dessert if he was a good boy even if it was winter. The little kid celebrated in a quiet whisper, a huge smile on his face as he sat besides his mother, his legs swinging.

A group of people the Winchesters’ age waited, all of them with different kinds of nervous tics that dissolved in joyful celebration when a young man wearing scrubs appeared, breath short, announcing the birth of his twins, both perfectly healthy, just like their mother.

An old woman was crying as who seemed to be her daughter tried to comfort her between tears of her own, reliving old memories of her father and what he would say if he saw his favorite girls crying rivers like they were over an old man like him.

The Winchesters walked to the front desk, the receptionist busy talking on the phone. Catching them by the corner of his eye, he motioned for them to wait a moment for him to finish the call, taking a good look at them both.

“How may I help you?” A second receptionist greeted them with a bright smile, returning to her post and earning a short glare from her co-worker.

The Winchesters flashed their fake FBI badges with a perfectly neutral here-for-business expression on their faces.

“Agent Hotchner and agent Reid” Dean said, motioning first to himself and then to Sam. “We are here for the cult investigation.”

“We would like to speak with the victim.” Sam continued with a quiet tone. “Would that be possible?” he added.

Dean didn’t know if to laugh or to roll his eyes at his brother’s puppy eyes. What was crystal clear was that he had to restrain himself in that moment. But he would remind his little brother later about it. Profusely.

“I-I’m not authorized to allow that.” The woman stuttered, looking nervously between the agents before turning to her colleague for help once he finished talking on the phone, considering a given he had been listening in.

“I’ll call doctor Banks.” He offered, picking up the phone again and ready to dial the extension needed, subtly mouthing at his co-worker that she owed him one.

But she was too busy making eyes at Dean to notice, the Winchester smiling back at her.

“No need to call, Norman. I’m right here.” A woman in her late forties strode to them, sensible heels clicking on the floor, looking at Dean and Sam from head to toe. “I’m doctor Melinda Banks, director of this hospital.” She shook their hands as the Winchesters introduced themselves under their aliases again. “Please, follow me. There are some matters we should discuss before I grant you access to our patient.”

Dr Banks led them silently to her office, asking for one of them to close the door as she walked to her desk, opening one of its drawers and producing a manila folder from inside it. She sat, checking its contents as she offered the agents the seats in front of her. Once the Winchester sat down, not without exchanging a slightly confused look, Dr Banks handed them the folder, sliding it carefully over the table, opened on a medical report and some photos.

“The victim’s forensic report, redacted by our medical examiner,” the woman nodded at them before assuring. “She followed the standard protocol to a T.”

Sam was the one to pick and start reading the report while Dean glanced the photographs enclosed in the folder. They were close-ups of each wound and bruise the victim had received, none revealing anything about the person itself, surely there just to illustrate the written report.

One photo in particular caught Dean’s attention, making him reach for it and pick it up to take a closer look. His eyes widened slightly, even if he tried his best to keep his expression neutral, when he saw a demon trap branded on the golden skin of a shoulder blade.

The scar was old, completely healed, the scarred tissue darker than the healthy skin and swollen, making the symbol stand out even more. It was defined enough for it to actually work, which leaded Dean to think that a demon had been trapped in their meatsuit, years ago, by a cunning hunter. The other option that came to mind was that someone had branded another human being to prevent possession just like he and Sam had gotten the symbol tattooed on their chest.

But a tattoo and a burned brand were two very different things.

With a grimace on his face, brows furrowed, he returned the photograph to the manila file, wondering which option was the correct one. Had a hunter captured a demon trapped in their own meatsuit to obtain some piece of information? Or had a mad hunter tortured and tried to exorcise a person that could have never been possessed in the first place?

This case was looking worse by the second.

“Everything you need to know appears in that file. But I must warn you,” Dr Banks started, her voice grave. It got Dean’s attention. Sam was still busy reading the report, a deep frown on his face, but he was listening too. “The patient was brought in, unconscious and barely breathing. She—” Dean squirmed on his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “—suffered grave dehydration and was on the verge of suffering hypothermia, not to mention all her injuries due what we assume had been torture.” The doctor paused, shaking her head. “If those kids had found her even an hour later, she wouldn’t have made it.

“After spending a whole day in the ICU, she’s finally out of danger. Recovered consciousness not even an hour ago,” the woman finished with a nod.

“May we speak with the victim then?” Sam was quick to ask, raising his stare from the paper in his hands to Dr Banks eyes, his urgency almost breaking though his agent persona.

“After such a traumatic event, I would prefer to conduct a psychological examination before exposing her to any form of stress that may result detrimental for her full recovery” The doctor explained, interlocking her fingers on the desk in front of her, back straight when she added. “She need rest.”

“We’ll ask quietly,” Dean half joked with a tight smile.

Neither Sam nor the doctor seemed to appreciate his sense of humor.

There was a knock on the door, insistent. Dr Banks allowed them in and a woman wearing a white coat opened the door, her breathing ragged, as if she had ran to get there.

“Janine. What the matter?”

“It’s…” The newcomer gave the Winchesters a nervous look before turning to her boss. Dr Banks nodded her permission for her to speak freely. “It’s Ms Vaughan.”

Dean’s attention jumped at the name, his heart leaping in his chest. It had to be a coincidence. Seren wouldn’t go around using her real name. In that aspect, she behaved like a hunter as far as he knew. Surely she had learned it from Bobby. Maybe even from John. Or Jethro. Surely Jethro.

Stealing a look at Sam, Dean tried to gauge his reaction to the name. But his little brother was too focused on any sort of new information the doctor could provide to even bother to send Dean a look to tell him that, maybe, the Vaughan the women were talking about could be Seren. Dean had a bad feeling gnawing at him.

“What happened?” Dr Banks pressed as the woman by the door kept silent, still looking between the people present in the office.

“She’s… She’s demanding to be released.”

“What?” The director’s jaw dropped and her eyes couldn’t have gone wider even if she tried. “She has just recovered consciousness!”

So that Vaughan was definitely their victim. Dean noted Sam’s fingers twitch at he information, his expression remaining neutral. If, somehow, it wasn’t their Seren, it would be a huge load of coincidences there.

“Did you tell her her diagnosis?” Dr Banks asked, getting up from her seat, hands on the desk, expression stern. “In full detail?”

“I did, but she insists. Says we can’t keep her admitted against her will and that she wants to leave. Now.” Janine informed. “I left her with Rosaura, see if she can convince her to stay and make sure Ms Vaughan doesn’t hurt herself.” There was a pause. “What should we do?”

Dr Banks expression turned severe, her brows furrowed. She tapped the desk’s surface with her nails a few times before coming to a decision, clicking her tongue and striding towards her office door, cursing under her breath as she marched towards the patient’s room after assuring the other doctor that she would take care of it, telling her to go back to her other patients. After giving the Winchesters one last look, Janine left.

Quickly, Sam put the report he still had in his hands back in the manila folder, arranged its content and left it over the table before practically leaped up from his seat to follow Dr Banks, motioning for Dean get up and follow too.

Dean was begging for all of it to be just one huge coincidence.

 

* * *

 

“I won’t say it again, Ms Vaughan.” The nurse warned. “Get back in bed. And, for all that’s holy, be careful with the IV!”

Seren just huffed in exasperation as she limped to the small built-in locker, using the IV stand as support, to retrieve what was left of her belongings, which wasn’t much. It’s what happened when someone found you half dead in the middle of nowhere and took you to a hospital: the medical team cared more about keeping you alive than the clothes you were wearing, cutting them apart to treat you. That’s how Seren had been left with just a shirt that was missing a few buttons, and her now ripped jeans. She should consider herself lucky that they were even there at all, clean to boost.

One of the nurses, the same one that was practically yelling at her, had been kind enough as to get Seren new underwear, a t-shirt, socks and even a pair of trainers when she woke up. Yes, Seren had been found barefoot and with nothing else on her name. She would miss her boots. They were her favorite.

Not for the first time, the nurse listed all of Seren’s injuries along estimated recovery times for each of them in an attempt to convince her to get back in bed and rest. Just in case the young woman tried to run—not that she could, really—the nurse had positioned herself blocking the door, even though there was a guard posted on the other side of it that could easily catch her.

But Seren was too busy in her search inside the locker, her movements becoming nervous and erratic by each second she didn’t find what she was looking for. She knew she had searched her shirt three times already, had meticulously checked that nothing was wrapped on it, yet she searched a fourth time for good measure. She was a nervous wreck trying to seem calm and whole.

Finally, her hands found an item each, her bandaged fingers clumsily trying to pick them up before giving up, opting to drag the items towards herself and catch them in one of her palms before they fell from the locker’s shelf.

A shy smile adorned Seren’s face as a relieved sigh left her lips when she saw the silver seal ring and the moon pendant resting in her trembling left hand.

She still had them. They weren’t lost.

Knowing full well her bandaged fingers wouldn’t be able to open the necklaces’ clasps to put them on, Seren settled for second best option to still wear them. She closed her first, the pendants in it, and winded their chains around her wrist. She kept her fist tightly closed for a moment, even if one of the moon pendant’s edges was digging into her skin.

Seren took a deep breath to steady herself, her eyes closed, focusing on the items in her fist

She still had them. She was safe. She would be fine.

“Thank you,” Seren practically mouthed into her fist.

“Are you even listening to me, young lady?” The nurse complained with a huff, crossing her arms and tapping one of her feet.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?” Seren asked, pulling the most innocent expression she could muster before turning to face the woman.

“Cheeky brat,” the nurse huffed, a half smile on her lips. “Come on, sugar. Go back to bed. Rest today too, and tomorrow we’ll see how you are doing. Okay?”

“No can do, dear nurse.” Seren singsonged, shaking her head to the rhythm as she picked her clothes, hanging them carefully on her arm to take them to the bed to change. “I’ve got very serious, very important stuff to do, and it can’t wait a single day longer.”

Even though she was keeping her tone cheerful and casual, Seren was fretting inside, her thoughts all over the place. She tried to sort some as she buried others deep down.

First of all, she had to call Ethan, to calm him, to apologize for being late, and to assure him she was fine. She told herself the last part wouldn’t be a lie as long as he didn’t ask for details.

She _was_ fine. Bruised, sure, but fine.

Since she had been gone for… What day had the nurse said it was? Her head hurt. She tried to think. To count. Five… No, six. Six days had passed since she had helped the hunter with the curse case.

Bloody hell.

Before anything else, Seren had to call Bobby. To make sure he was at home or working a case somewhere or both. As long as he was in one piece and _not_ looking for her, anything would do.

Was Camille still parked at the motel in Rock Hill?

Cold. A laugh. _Her_ laugh.

Seren felt dizzy. One of her hands searched support on the IV stand. The other went to cover her mouth as a qualm twisted her stomach.

The nurse went to her, to steady her and take her back to the bed before she fell to the floor. But her movement seemed too sudden for Seren’s perception, taking her by surprise and making her flinch away, out of the nurse’s reach. Seren almost tripped as she moved around the bed so it would work as a barrier.

The older woman’s eyes widened, first in surprise, then in understanding. She gave Seren a pitying look, quickly turning it into an encouraging one, shy smile on her lips, as if to tell Seren that it was okay, that she was safe there and that nothing bad would happen to her.

Seren’s stomach twisted.

“I’m fine!” The girls assured, straightening herself, arms akimbo, striking a pose as if she was a superhero for a moment before resuming her changing of clothes.

Everything hurt, but she had to play it cool. She had to be convincing.

She had to leave.

“Where do you think you are going, Ms Vaughan?” A commanding voice asked from the door.

Seren flinched again, head almost snapping to look at the newcomer. But she held her cool, clicking her tongue in annoyance before calmly turning to see who had arrived.

A middle aged woman walked to stand besides the nurse. Her brown hair was perfectly styled in a bun, a pair of loose curly strands framing her face. By the way she carried herself, her attitude and the outfit she was wearing, Seren deduced the newcomer was a higher-up and not just a regular doctor.

“Isn’t it clear? I’m leaving.” Seren answered with a cheery voice she hoped didn’t sound as forced as it felt.

Containing a groan to hide the pain she felt on her sore legs, Seren finished putting on her jeans. The bandages made them feel tighter than they were, bothering the stitched cuts under the gauze.

Now came the part were she had to put the socks on. The trick was to find the right way to bend herself so her bruised ribs wouldn’t complain.

Easy as pie.

“Ms Vaughan,” the higher-up started. “You have gone though a traumatic event—”

“I’ve had worse.” Seren interjected, scrunching up her nose as she gave the woman a look.

She had.

“You are in shock.” The woman insisted, tone stern and firm. “You are in no condition to be discharged yet and—”

“And I have the right to refuse further medical attention, doctor.” Seren cut again, making the woman’s brow to twitch. “In fact, I don’t think I can even afford the treatment I’ve already received. So,” Seren breathed, socks finally on. “I’ll do a bunch of paperwork for my bill, give my thank-yous to all the wonderful personnel, and just go my merry way.” Seren held in a whimper as she put the shoes on. “As I already said to my lovely nurse, I have very serious, very important stuff to take care off.” And bless her for getting her trainers with velcro instead of shoelaces.

Bottom half dressed. Only the top half left.

“Don’t you dare take that IV out!” both the nurse and the doctor’s voices warned her in unison when her hand went for the needle stuck in her arm.

Seren obeyed, raising her hands in surrender. She winced, lowering them slowly when the movement caused a sharp pain on her side. She covered it the best she could.

“Please, don’t get me wrong,” Seren started, getting up from the bed carefully, her back to the room’s door. “I _really_ appreciate all this care about my health. I really do!” She untied the hospital gown. She was sick of wearing it. “Look. I can move just fine—” Her body decided to betray her in that very moment, her legs almost giving in. One hand shot to grab the IV stand while the other relayed on the bed for support. “Okay, maybe not so fine,” she admitted, clearing her throat awkwardly. “But still good enough.”

Seren tried to take off the gown, only to realize the IV was in the way—bloody thing. Still, she preferred as little contact with the hospital garment as possible, so having it hanging from her arm wasn’t as bad as having it on.

“Here. Let me help you get decent,” the nurse offered quickly yet softly after exchanging a look with the doctor.

She didn’t get closer to Seren until the young woman nodded her consent and, even then, the nurse moved slowly and carefully as to don’t startle her again. She stopped the drip before detaching the tube from the needle so Seren could take off the gown.

Swiftly, the nurse helped Seren put on her bra, the t-shirt and the shirt, buttoning it up for her before connecting the tube to the needle again and restoring the drip.

“All done,” the woman smiled warmly at Seren, arranging the shirt’s neck with care.

Seren could only give a nod as she mouthed a thank you. It may be silly to some, but wearing her own clothes was a huge comfort in that moment. It made her nerves calm down slightly.

She still wanted out of there though.

“Thank you, Rosaura.” The doctor’s voice sighed rubbing her temple, relieved that Seren had been pacified.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a round to make.” The nurse said, before turning to Seren. “You better behave while I’m gone, Ms Vaughan. I’ll get you a pudding if you do.” Seren didn’t even bat an eye at the bribe. “Or maybe a flan?”

That did get her attention.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll behave.” Seren conceded, rolling her eyes playfully at the nurse. “For the flan. Wait,” she motioned for the nurse to give her a second as she thought of something. “We are talking about egg flan, right? With caramel?”

“Of course, sugar.” The nurse gave her a knowing wink, chuckling and shaking her head at the young woman’s excitement at the treat.

As soon as she left, Seren’s expression went blank. There was a charged silence as she limped to seat at the feet of her bed, dragging with her the IV stand without using it for support, forcing her legs to carry her weight—to test them. They trembled, almost giving up again before she sat down slowly.

It was true, she was too weak to leave on her own two feet.

“I still want to be discharged today,” Seren said, all previous humor and cheeriness gone from her voice, stare lost on the white wall in front of her.

She perceive movement through the corner of her eye as the doctor entered her visual field. She was giving Seren a sad look as her eyes inspected her state.

“We’ll talk about that later if you don’t mind, Ms Vaughan.” It was clear she was trying to buy time, either to get a diagnostic that would disqualify Seren’s mental state due trauma or shock, or in hopes that the young woman would finally listen to reason.

Unlikely, both of them. The later wouldn’t happen at all and, if the woman resorted to the former, Seren would find a way to get away.

“With all the commotion, I believe I haven’t introduced myself yet.” The woman said. “Dr Banks, director of this hospital.” Seren saw her open her mouth only to close it again, her lips forming a tight line for a moment, unsure of her next words. “The FBI has sent agents to investigate what happened to you, Ms Vaughan. They would like to talk with you.”

As if on cue, two sets of steps approached them, the room’s door closing behind them. Seren turned her head to see the agents. An annoyed groan almost escaped her lips when she recognized the Winchesters in their feds suits.

Her face betrayed nothing as she cursed her luck.

“Ms Vaughan,” To her surprise, Dean was the one to greet her, his expression the perfect example of neutral professionalism. Still, the girl spied something in his eyes that she didn’t know how to read. “We are agent Hotchner and agent Reid. We would like to ask you a few questions. In private.” He added with a look at the director.

The woman frowned at the petition, as if she had already talked about that point with them and didn’t want to discuss it in front of one of her patients.

“We’ll be careful of not upsetting her,” Sam assured Dr Banks.

Seren had to hide an amused smile at the younger Winchester’s FBI version of the puppy eyes.

“Alright,” the director accepted with a slow nod, still unsure. “Low stress. If you feel unwell, call the nurse immediately.” She instructed Seren before going to the door. “Please, come by my office once you are done here, gentlemen.”

Sam and Dean nodded, the younger Winchester confirming the instruction given. The three of them waited in silence a few minutes after the doctor closed the door before speaking again, careful as to not be heard by the guard still stationed by the door.

“Well, well, well.” Seren started, a lopsided smile on her lips that almost made her wince. She tried to cross her legs for the theatrics only to wince as her body warned her that it was too sore for even that. No theatrics then. “Aren’t you a view for sore eyes, lads. What brings you here?”

“What happened?” Sam asked, his previous concealed worry now fully exposed on his face.

He made to get closer to her, to get a closer look at her injuries, but thought better of it, his hand closing on a fist for a moment before it went lax again.

“Job hazards,” Seren answered simply, shrugging her shoulders and averting her eyes. She was unable to joke about it when he gave her that kind of look.

“This is no normal ‘job hazard’, Seren.” Dean said, seriously.

There was no harshness in his voice. Not at her, at least.

“It is when you are a witch, pretty boy.” She answered, her tone calm, bordering on detached, absentmindedly picking her fingers’ bandages. “Not all hunters take kindly my mere existence. You should know that.”

To her surprise, Dean seemed to flinch with guilt at her remark, making her feel some guilt of her own. She hadn’t meant for it to be hurtful, just illustrative since he seemed to have a certain visceral hate against her just because she was a witch.

Seren kept picking at her bandages, trying to distract herself from the brothers’ badly concealed stares at her injuries, both old and new. That’s why she always hid her scars, be it with a glamour or with makeup. People always stared and judged. Feeling suddenly conscious, and even if she knew it was impossible for it to be seen through two layers of clothing, Seren rearranged her shirt if only to feel its fabric tense against her back, covering the grotesque scar on her back.

_Fiend._

Even if Sam and Dean had already seen the close-ups of Seren’s injuries, it hadn’t fully prepared them to see them in person. They had seen the bruises on her body when she had taken off the hospital gown without much warning, bandages all over her limbs and the brand clear on her back. Her lower lip had been split and was still swollen. Her right eyebrow had a nasty gash that had been cleanly stitched together and, with a bit of luck, wouldn’t leave a scar. She had a black eye in the same side, the hit that had caused it so violent that part of the sclera was tinted red. It would heal in time, but she had been close to lose that eye’s vision.

Then, there was the scar that covered her left temple, an old burn that had left the skin there looking tender, a shade darker and rosier than the rest of her face.

Dean recognized that mark. He had seen it before, long ago, when Seren had flashed it for Sirius to see so he could tell the real Seren from the shapeshifter. Back then Dean had believed it to be a trick. An illusion. He had been right, just not the way he had thought to be.

The devil’s trap branded on her back came to Dean’s mind, clearer now that he had seen it in the flesh, quite literaly. How old had she been when they marked her? Just what kind of hunter would be so merciless. So cruel.

_Like hunters are that high and mighty._

No wonder she was so guarded and bitter around them.

“Could I borrow a phone?” Seren’s soft, tired question brought Dean back from his thoughts. “I think I should check in with Bobby before he starts a search for me.” She had meant it as a joke, but the look the brother’s exchanged told her she wasn’t that far off. “Bloody hell. Really?”

“You went missing, Seren.” Sam said. “Of course he would worry and go looking for you.”

“I’ll never hear the end of it.” Seren whined in a whisper, passing her fingers through her hair only to get strands stuck on the bandages. “Bloody hell. Bloody hell. Bloody. Freaking. Hell!”

She had to calm down. She had to relax.

She had to leave.

“Does Bobby know I’m here?” Seren asked, trying to think straight. “Did he tell you to come get me?”

“No,” Dean answered, shaking his head. “We were already working this case when he called to tell us you were missing.”

Seren gave a curt nod.

“Then you have to help me get out. Please,” she practically begged the Winchester when they exchanged a hesitant look at her request.

She might not be able to leave on her own two feet, but she didn’t have to. Sam and Dean were there and she would take advantage of their presence there. It would be easy for them to convince the director she had to leave.

For her case to have attracted the hunters attention, it surely had been covered as some sort of cult ritual by the news, just like the day she—

Seren shook her head. Not time to dwell on that. Breath. In and out. One, two, three times. Bury the thought; focus on the present.

Back to the situation at hand.

The Winchesters were FBI agents. She was a victim. A cult had tried to sacrifice her for a ritual and it hadn’t been their first attempt.

When Seren had woken up in the hospital, she had thought it weird they knew her real name until she remembered there were traces of her in the system from a certain event—one she wouldn’t be reminiscing at the moment, thank you very much.

So, acting as feds, Sam and Dean could request a transfer due safety reasons, and the hospital would have no motive to refuse said request since Seren was stable enough to be moved without endangering her health.

She explained her idea to the Winchesters, trying to sound calm, hiding the worry she felt that they would refuse. It would complicate things for her quite a bit.

She would get out of that bloody hospital that same day. She _needed_ to.

“I think Dr Banks is right, Seren. You should rest.” Sam said, his voice soft and soothing. An attempt to don’t upset her. “Stay one more day. Just one, okay? It’ll do you good.”

For her body, maybe; for her nerves, not so much.

“I’ll rest and get better. Cross my heart.” She assured hastily, doing the gesture. “Just… Just not here. At Bobby’s. I’ll stay at Bobby’s.”

The Winchester exchanged a worried look, one Seren didn’t catch. They both noticed her trembling hand when she motioned the cross over her heart and, even if her expression and tone might have been considered calm by others, her eyeswere shifting nervously around. They fell on them to try to assess who of the two brothers would be convinced first. Then, her eyes would go anywhere but on the boys, a vain attempt to feign nonchalance.

“That way he can nag at me all he wants about this whole… situation.” Seren continued, rubbing her hands together and looking away. She looked back up at Sam. “Would that be enough?”

Dean almost let out a laugh when he saw the puppy eyes the girl was giving his little brother. Talk about having a taste of his own medicine. The moment Sam doubted what to do, turning to Dean for his opinion on the matter, he was done for.

“Why the hurry?” Dean stepped up, seeing his brother stuck.

He thought it was an easy question to answer yet it made Seren flinch, her lips pressed in a firm line, almost biting them in to keep herself silent as she stared away with a small frown. Her fingers had started fidgeting with the chains around her wrist, with the ring and the pendant.

“You want our help, you ought tell us.” Dean sentenced, crossing his arms.

Only when Seren tensed at his words did he notice they had come out harsher than intended. She and the whole situation were making him nervous.

“I may want it but I don’t _need_ it,” Seren snapped, glaring at him. “Even like this, I can fend on my own just fine, pretty boy.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Sam was quick to intercede, stopping Seren from getting up from the bed. “We’ll help you. Promise.”

“But we have the right to know what we are getting ourselves into,” Dean told Seren, leaning on the wall and checking the false ceiling’s pattern. This time, he had kept his tone in check.

“Not enough points,” Seren muttered to herself, her attention on her bandaged fingers as she picked at them again.

Dean was about to complain, not wanting to cross another hunter like Gordon just for her if he could avoid it, when he took a look at Seren. She was biting her lower lip with a deep frown, her eyes looking around the floor, debating her next words.

“Ask Bobby,” Serens let out in a whisper after a few attempts at speaking. She looked defeated. “He’ll tell you.”

“Is Bobby some sort of cheat code now?” Dean gave her a bemused look, earning a reproachful one from Sam. Seren chuckled softly. “Why not tell us yourself if we are gonna know anyway?”

“I…”

_Might use it against you, princess._

“I can’t,” Seren bit off so it didn’t come out in a whimper.

But the Winchester caught the little break. They made their decision then.

“I’ll go speak with Dr Banks,” Sam said, going to the door after Dean gave him an agreeing nod. “Be nice while I’m gone. Both of you.”

Sam’s half joke half for real warning took both Seren and Dean by surprise, both of them giving him a startled look. They turned towards each other before looking away with an affronted frown on their faces. Sam didn’t leave until they both promised to behave, arching an eyebrow their way, waiting. Seren muttered her agreement rather reluctantly, while Dean waved his little brother off thoughtlessly. After sending a glare to his older brother, Sam made to leave the room.

“Almost forgot,” Sam turned around, going back to Seren as he rummaged in one of his pockets. “We found this. Thought you might want it back.” He said with a shy smile that showed his dimples.

Sam took out a broken bracelet with charms from his pocket, showing it to Seren. A small bright smile adorned her lips when she recognized it, extending her cupped hands for Sam to leave the bracelet there as she thanked him. Dean shook his head at the silly smile his little brothers had on his face.

And so, Dean and Seren were left to wait for Sam to return in complete, awkward silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to rewrite this thing from scratch when I was almost finished. It keeps growing. A prototype chapter has turned into three (third still to be writen). I don't know where the words are coming from.  
> I feel like I'm going too slow but I know that if I rush, I'll mess it up.  
> Send help, please.


	12. Chapter 26 — Remnants of the Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this chapter tried to kill me.  
> But I'm stronger.

More than half an hour had already passed and Sam wasn’t back yet. He must had been having some difficulties convincing director Banks of letting Seren be discharged that day and released into their custody. It was the only reason Dean could think of for his brother to leave him there, alone with Seren, for so long.

Dean had grown tired of waiting in silence after the first fifteen minutes. It felt like an eternity with nothing in there to entertain himself with, except maybe counting the false ceiling tiles or watching the drip.

Seren wasn’t doing any better. Her nerves were skin-deep, constantly fidgeting with her bandages or tapping her fingers on the bed. She didn’t move more than that in the whole time they had been alone, not even to look at Dean. Not that he minded. Much.

Wasn’t it rude to ignore someone’s presence in the same room? Not talking to someone and completely ignoring them were two very different things. In fact, in the time they had been in there, Dean had been paying attention to Seren’s behavior, picking up some nervous tics even if she was trying to keep them to a minimum. They even followed a sequence, Dean noted.

First, she fidgeted with her own fingers and the bandages on them, careful as to don’t mess them. Then followed caressing the pendants around her wrist, as if to make sure they were still there. Lastly, she would take one hand to the broken bracelet she had left on the bed, her fingers tapping on each charm softly.

Dean was trying to come up with a way to lightly make fun of her, if only to distract both of them for a bit, when he noticed something that broke the pattern.

Sometimes, Seren would become suddenly tense, whatever she was doing in that moment stopping mid-motion. She even seemed to hold her breath, becoming completely still.

After a few seconds, she would relax again, a soft sigh leaving her lips as her breathing returned to normal again. Her fingers resumed whatever they were doing as if they had never stopped in the first place.

By the second time he saw it happen, Dean noted steps walking past the room. He almost scratched that as the cause when Seren didn’t react to someone hurrying past. But then, she became tense again as a set of steps sounded outside. That’s when Dean realized Seren only became like a living statue when she heard a certain type of footsteps: rhythmic and determined, almost martial but light.

There was a scandalous sneeze outside—Clayton the guard, surely—that surprised both Dean and Seren. But she reacted like they were under attack or something. Her eyes had darted to the door, wide open and alert. Some strands of her hair had fallen over her face when she had turned to watch the door, waiting for someone to come in, ready to fight or flight if needed.

It took Seren a long moment to calm down. Only then did she notice Dean’s surprised expression, both at the loud sneeze and at her reaction. It made Seren almost laugh, a shy yet nervous smile on her lips that was gone as quickly as it had come.

Then, Seren looked away, smoothing her hair with a trembling hand. She muttered something, maybe a joke to make light of her own reaction and distract Dean from looking too much into it.

But it was too late for distractions. Dean had already seen the sheer terror in her eyes as she had watched the door. Seren wasn’t just nervous of having to stay in that hospital until she recovered. Seren was scared, terrified that whoever had tortured her would appear at any given moment.

Dean took his eyes away form her, glaring at the floor in front of his own feet as he gritted his teeth in anger, a deep scowl on his face. He had only ever seen Seren be full of theatrics and sass, sure of herself and her guesses and hunches. Dean never would have imagined he would witness Seren looking so afraid. Ever. She was too good at hiding behind that blank, guarded expression of hers. It always managed to get his nerves on edge because he couldn’t read her when she got like that.

Whoever had captured Seren had known which buttons to press to completely unsettle her, to shatter her practiced composure. Maybe it had been the same hunter that had burned the mark on her back. Or maybe not. Maybe the one that had branded her was dead—not really a surprise—and the one that had gotten her now was somehow related to the first one. It made sense in Dean’s mind.

But that wasn’t enough for him. Dean needed to know more about what had happened to Seren, to comprehend her whole situation better. He needed facts for that, not just wild guesses and speculations.

He had to talk with Bobby.

Dean’s hand went to his pocket, the one that held his phone, itching to make the call. But doing so from the room didn’t seem like a good idea, and leaving Seren in there, alone, seemed even worse when he saw her fidgeting getting worse by the second.

He had to distract her.

“So,” Dean started, clearing his throat softly and rubbing the back of his neck, not so sure of his decision when he tried to come up with a topic they could talk about without arguing. “How’s the engine going?” He almost winced at his own eloquence.

Surprised that Dean was talking to her, Seren turned on the bed carefully so she could look at the Winchester without straining her neck, her head tilted to a side in confusion at the sudden question, wondering where it had come from.

“Is that some sort of slang?” Seren asked with a soft puzzled frown. “If it is, I don’t get it.”

“No, of course it’s not slang.” Dean grumbled, feeling a bit stupid. Great way to start. “I meant that jalopy of yours.” Seren frowned, offended by the name-calling. He sure was on a roll. “Camille’s engine. How’s it doing? Working good?”

“Yeah, it’s great.” Seren answered before looking down. “It works really well. Helped me get just in time more than once already.” She huffed with a laugh. Then, to his surprise, she said, “Thank you, Dean.”

He would be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat when Seren said that, her eyes locked on his.

In her state, and specially after seeing her scared expression, Dean would have expected at least a speck of vulnerability when she thanked him. Maybe even a hint of shame, because she had needed his help. Well, he would have been wrong—oh so wrong. Seren’s stare was firm, solemn, as if she was making a silent promise, an oath, in that very moment.

Whatever she promised, if she was even doing that, she kept it to herself.

The moment was broken short when the room’s door opened, Seren’s attention snapping towards it, heart almost leaving through her throat. Dean followed her stare, finding the nurse from before, followed by Sam.

Rosaura pushed a wheelchair in, smiling at Seren warmly. The girl tried to return the gesture, but it came out rather weak as she followed the nurse’s every move attentively until she noticed the flan and the plastic spoon on the wheelchair.

The nurse laughed when she saw Seren’s sparkling eyes as she looked at the treat, telling her that it was for a bit later.

“It seems you are leaving us today, sugar. Just like you wanted.” The nurse huffed, going to stop the drip and take out the needle from Seren’s arm.

The girl played dumb, acting surprised and asking how so. After making sure the nurse wasn’t looking her way as she gave her an answer along some guidelines, Seren mouthed her thanks to Sam not so subtly. Sam just nodded her way with a dimpled smile.

As soon as Seren was free from the IV, she got up and went to sit on the wheelchair after taking the flan and the spoon in her hands, licking her lips at the thought of eating it.

“You should eat some food before that,” the nurse pointed out.

“This is food,” Seren replied, removing the lid carefully. “And I’m in dire need of my sugar fix.”

“Understandable,” Rosaura nodded with a smile.

Seren took a small bite of flan with the plastic spoon, making it jiggle softly. Dean scoffed a laugh, good-naturedly shaking his head at the girl’s antics. She stuck her tongue at him in response, before taking the bit to her mouth as if to make him envious she was eating flan and he wasn’t, letting out a hum in blissful delight.

All present smiled, relieved that she had seemed to calm now, her mood improved. All thanks to leaving the hospital and a cheap flan. That simple.

Seren was so focused on enjoying it slowly, that she didn’t notice the chains around her wrist becoming undone, the seal ring and the pendant falling to the floor as a result. But Sam did, going to kneel besides her to retrieve them.

“You better take care of this one, agents.” The nurse started, patting Seren’s shoulder softly before resting her hand there. “Or you’ll hear more from me.”

“Don’t worry, ma’am.” Dean assured with a charming smile, coming closer to them. “We’ll take good care of the little princess.”

 

* * *

 

Maybe it was because Seren had relaxed, thinking herself safe now that the Winchesters would get her out of that bloody hospital.

Maybe it was because the nurse’s hand was resting on her left shoulder, too close to the devil’s trap branded on her back.

Maybe she was simply too weak, too tired from the days she had spent in that forsaken shed, with the torture, the cold, and the starvation.

Or maybe it hadn’t been just one of those, but all of them combined what made hearing Dean refer to her by that cursed name the last straw.

All her defenses went crashing down.

The memories she had buried over and over and over again in the deepest part of her mind reemerged with a vengeance. It all came back, every little detail, like chains bounding her limbs, menacing to drag her back into the nightmare.

On reflex, Seren’s hand shot to her neck, her fingers searching for the moon pendant, the only thing that could ground her on the present and dispel those chains.

It wasn’t there. She felt the chains tightening.

In a moment of lucidity, Seren remembered. She wasn’t wearing the pendant around her neck, but had tied it around her wrist, hand going for it. But it wasn’t there either. It should be there yet it wasn’t. Seren would swear she had tied it.

Hadn’t she?

Seren felt her grip on what was real and what was a memory slip through her fingers as the chains pulled her into the deep. She tried to resist them, to reaffirm herself that it was all in the past.

But everything hurt and her mind was in shambles and the chains kept pulling her towards the dark murky pit where she had buried her memories.

It reached for her.

Echoes of screams filled her ears. Crying, begging, threatening. Minds forced open for her to see. She didn’t want to see. Why did they make her see? Rage, confusion, fear. Always one of those above everything else. A gunshot— _ **Bang**_ —and all was gone, lost in white noise.

Silence.

A shrill laugh. A twisted praise.

_Good job, princess._

And so, the nightmare swallowed her whole.

 

* * *

 

Sam was the first to notice the change in Seren. He had found it weird that she hadn’t even sent Dean a nasty look his way after he had called her princess. Sam doubted she would have had any qualms even if Dean had been a real FBI agent.

He looked at her, curious. The plastic spoon had fell from her hand, the flan dangerously loose in her other hand. Seren’s shoulder were hunched, as if to make herself smaller. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, unfocused.

Something wasn’t right.

“Seren?” Sam called, trying to look her in the eyes since he was still crouched.

She flinched, shrinking more on herself, as if trying to hide from him. She was trembling now, teeth silently chattering. Her eyes still looking at nothing, but now staring closer to her feet, as if to avoid everyone’s stares.

“You okay, sugar?” The nurse asked softly, noticing her trembling after a while of explaining to Dean all Seren would need for a proper recovery.

Sam had the impression his brother had been only nodding and not really listening.

“Are you cold?” The nurse insisted softly rubbing Seren’s shoulder as if to warm her up a bit, a small worried frown on her face.

“No, ma’am.” The girl answered in a whisper, her voice meek, as she shied away from the woman’s touch.

That seemed to get Dean’s attention, quickly turning to Seren with a puzzled expression, taking in the change before giving Sam a bewildered look, silently asking if he knew what was going on with her.

“Seren?” Sam tried again, searching for her face though the curtain of her hair.

She seemed to flinch at the sound of her own name as if she had gotten a shock, shrinking more into herself. Both of her hands were holding the flan, her fingers nervously caressing the plastic cup as some sort of distraction to keep herself quietly calm.

Dean was about to try calling Seren’s name once more when the room’s door practically flew open, making Sam stand up quickly while Seren almost jumped out off of her own skin, a short shriek leaving her lips.

A tall woman strode in hurriedly, auburn hair waving behind her, tied in a ponytail. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Seren, expression a mix of caution and weariness and compassion.

“Dr Carlyle! Calm and quiet.” Rosaura reprimanded her in a shout-whisper, looking between the woman and Seren, whose trembling had gotten worse. “You said so yourself.”

“I also asked to be notified if anyone came in to check on the patient,” the doctor reminded, politely, before giving the brothers a not so amicable look. “Are you the FBI agents requesting the patient to be discharged? I want to talk with your superior.” She demanded before anyone had even time to answer. “Right now.”

“I’m sorry, miss—”

“Doctor,” The woman cut Dean with a glare, arms crossed and head high. “Doctor Spica Carlyle.”

“Excuse us, doctor.” Sam interceded, taking his eyes from the trembling Seren to look a the woman. “But the director already authorized—”

“I don’t care what the director did.” Dr Carlyle cut again. “You are not taking my sister without an official order. So either you show me one, or I speak with your superior.”

“Sister?” If it wasn’t because he was supposed to be an FBI agent, Dean would have rolled his eyes so hard a that.

Of course they would run into another of Seren’s siblings.

Spica didn’t even bother to answer him, simply giving the Winchester an exasperated kind of look, tapping her foot on the floor, waiting for them to make a decision. She stopped as soon as she saw Seren flinch at the noise she was making.

“Excuse me,” Rosaura interrupted the doctor’s and Dean’s stare down. She had a hard glare of her own for them. “I think you should take this discussion outside.” She threw a meaningful glance Seren’s way for the others to see. “Don’t you?”

 

* * *

 

The FBI left.

Good, good. That… That was good. Less questions. She hated when they asked questions. She could never tell them the truth. She hated to lie.

The nurse remained with her. She was nice, trying to make her comfortable and only asking yes or no questions. Was she cold? Did she want some water? Another flan maybe? Her voice was so soft and warm. It had been such a long time since someone had talked to Seren like that.

No, not Seren. Jude. She was Jude.

Jude. Jude. Jude

A lost cause.

Jude basked in the nurse’s kindness as much a she could. She wouldn’t see much more of it when Father and Mother came for her. Because they would come. They always did. They would never let her go. And they would be so mad with her. So, so mad.

Jude couldn’t remember what had happened. Couldn’t remember what job Mother and Father had ordered her to do, her task, but taking into account how beaten up she was and that she had ended up admitted in a hospital, Jude had a feeling she hadn’t done a good job.

Father… Father would be so disappointed when he found out.

_You’ve let me down, princess. And you know what happens when my little princess lets me down. Don’t you?_

Jude shivered. She knew. She knew too well what that meant.

Mother would deliver the punishment while Father stood aside, cold blue eyes observing. Always watching, impassive. Mother would beat her half dead and Father would only watch. Later, he would patch up the worst part, enough so the wounds wouldn’t fester.

But it was okay. Because Jude deserved it. Because she had failed them. Because she was a monster. An abomination. A fiend.

Because, if she tried to get away, to escape, Father and Mother would find her, bring her home, her real home, and kill everyone there for Jude to see. Or worst, for Jude to _feel_.

 

* * *

 

“So, you and Ms Vaughan are related.” Dean started, trying to sound professional when he only wanted to snoop for a bit of information. “Sisters, you said?”

It might be that Seren was only half related to all of her siblings but, so far, they all bore a resemblance to her. A certain similitude. Dr Carlyle had none. Fair skin with freckles, big round light brown eyes, auburn straight hair. Not a single feature even close to similar.

Even Sam seemed cautious of the woman as he handed her a card with one of Bobby’s phone numbers. Dr Carlyle didn’t even bother to answer Dean’s question as she swiftly picked up her phone and dialed the number. She took the device to her ear and waited.

“Agent Rossi? Doctor Spica Carlyle speaking.” The woman greeted curtly. “I would like to ask you some question about—” She turned to look at the brothers, her eyes mirroring the boys’ suspicion. “—agent Hotchner and agent Reid.”

Sam and Dean watched as she refrained herself from pacing around, nodding and making affirmative hums at whatever Bobby was telling her. They thought it might be working until Spica answered Bobby with a categorical no as she scowled at them openly.

“Seren won’t go with them. I forbid it. You’ll have to come get her yourself.” Bobby said something to try to convince her, but it only made her frown more. “It’s precisely because they are John’s boys.” She seethed though her teeth. “I don’t care that Seren has already worked with them nor that you vouch for them Bob—Rossi! Goddammit. You hunters and your stupid aliases.” She muttered, looking around to make sure no one had heard her slip. Good thing she had taken the precaution of sending the guard for a break. “Either you come get Seren or she stays right here. End of the story.”

Okay. So she knew. Dr Spica Carlyler knew Bobby and the whole hunting business. Weird. Her knowing should have made things easier, not harder for them. And what kind of grudge did she hold against their father for it to affect them by association?

Dean had found it specially strange since he had been witness of Seren and John working together. They had gotten along, at least by his dad’s standards of getting along, no sign of underlying tension nor anything of the sorts. In fact, John had seemed to hold Seren in high regard, listening attentively to her every input. Dean would never admit it out loud, not even to Sam, but he had been jealous his own father had treated someone close to his age that way while he was being bossed around.

So, why would Dr Spica Carlyle, Seren’s—still supposed—sister, refuse so vehemently for them to take her “precisely because they were John’s boys”?

“Boy—Agents,” Dr Carlyle corrected herself in time. “Your boss wants to have a few words with you.”

She handed her phone in their general direction. It almost fell to the floor when Dean went to pick it and Spica let go of it too soon so their fingers wouldn’t even graze, a look of disgust on her face.

Looking closer, her attitude and expression seemed familiar, a flash of Draco’s general attitude towards his older sister coming to both Winchester’s mind. Oddly enough, and now that they thought about it, Dr Carlyle did have a vague resemblance to him. But that was something to dwell on later.

“Sir?” Dean asked on the phone, his eyes following a passerby nurse that had glanced his way.

“Listen,” Bobby started, traffic noise in the background. “I’m on my way. Just keep watch until I get there. You hear me?”

“Would appreciate more intel, sir.” Subtle way of asking what the hell was going on.

“If you see anyone that might be a hunter, send them away,” was Bobby’s instruction. “The rest is for Seren to tell.”

“Got special clearance,” Dean assured. Seren had said to ask Bobby after all.

There was a long pause. If it wasn’t because he could still hear traffic noise, Dean would have thought the call had been cut.

“Just stay put. We’ll talk later.” Bobby insisted. “Understood?”

“Roger,” Dean answered with a curt nod just before Bobby had hanged up. “We are on guard duty,” he told Sam as he returned the phone, throwing it carelessly for its owner to catch.

“Asshole,” he heard Dr Carlyle mutter as she pocketed the device, glaring daggers at him.

Their little stare down was cut short when Seren’s room’s door opened, the nurse peeking though it as she called for the doctor, saying that Seren was acting strange.

Unlike before, when she was demanding to be released, Seren was quiet and complied to every instruction the nurse had given her as she changed her bandages one last time before she left the hospital. It wouldn’t have worried the nurse so much if it wasn’t because, when she was about to apply the disinfectant ointment, the girl had had a fit.

“She keeps hiding her hands and muttering gibberish, something about not wanting to see,” Rosaura finished explaining, a worried expression on her face as she glanced back inside the room thought the door’s little window. “I’m afraid the director was right. Ms Vaughan shouldn’t leave the hospital yet. Not without first passing a psychological examination.”

“Anything else that might seem abnormal?” Dr Carlyle asked. It was clear she was trying to keep calm and logical.

“Besides that her personality seems to have taken a 180 degree turn? No, nothing abnormal.” The nurse sassed, arching an eyebrow the doctor’s way.

“Point taken,” the woman conceded with a small smile. Her fault for making a stupid question.

“Seren wasn’t responding to her name before,” Sam recalled. “Even flinched when she heard it.”

Dr Carlyle turned to face him, eyes filled with worry. She opened her mouth to say or ask something, but closed it before any word left her lips, her eyes fixed on Sam’s hand, a puzzled expression on her face.

“It that…” she trailed off, pointing at what had gotten her attention, puzzlement replaced by uneasiness.

Confused, Sam raised the hand in question, Seren’s ring and pendant hanging from their respective chain and leather cord. He had forgotten he was still holding them.

“Those are Seren’s, aren’t they? Why do you have them?” She demanded rather aggressively.

“Chill, doc!” Dean intervened, stepping between Sam and the doctor. “He just picked it up when the princess dropped it.”

He shouldn’t have said that.

Dr Carlyle’s already big eyes went wide open in alarm, a borderline murderous glint in them. It made Dean feel like a mouse about to be attacked by a menacing owl. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, to say the least.

“What did you just call my sister?” The owl had unfolded its wings and was ready for the dive.

“Princess?” Dean repeated as if in a daze, not thinking any better of it.

Dr Carlyle seemed to see red then, a vein on her temple now visible as she kept herself from screaming at the Winchester. Her lips were tightly pressed on a line, nostrils flaring as she took deep breaths to calm herself.

“Rosaura,” the woman called, voice controlled. “I’ll take it from here. Thank you very much.”

The nurse nodded, slightly unsure if it was alright for her to just leave in that moment. She went her way not without sending the group one last wary look before turning a corner and getting out of their sight.

“Let me get this straight,” The doctor started, eyes closed while one of her feet nervously tapped on the floor. “You have worked with my sister quite a few times, for what I’ve heard. And not even once did she tell you not to call her that?”

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but Sam stopped him with a nudge to get his attention, head shaking in a no motion. The situation seemed volatile enough for Dean to say anything improper. Loose lips sink ships, after all.

“You called her princess while you were in there. Didn’t you? That’s when Seren started to act weird.” Dr Carlyle snarled, scowling at Dean. The expression on his face as he tried to come up with an excuse was answer enough. “You goddamn dimwit!” She seethed through her teeth. What she really wanted to do was scream it to his face.

She stood right in front of him, point finger ready as she menaced to give the older Winchester a piece of her mind only to huff dismissively at him. It wasn’t worth it, loosing her time telling him off. So she snatched the pendants from Sam’s hands rather harshly and strode towards Seren’s door, muttering curses.

Not thinking any better, Dean called for her, making her stop before she opened the door, hand on the handler. She stood there, glaring daggers at him as she waited for Dean to say whatever he might have to say. But his words were lost.

“Look,” Sam started, seeing his brother tongue tied. “We just want to help.”

“You want to help?” She pointed an accusatory finger at the older Winchester. “Then keep that idiot away from my sister.”

“What did I do?!” Dean complained. “It’s just a word! What’s so wrong with it?”

“What’s so wrong with—” Dr Carlyle seemed ready to rip Dean a new one but stopped herself just in time, before even her tone got out of hand.

She closed her eyes as she made a motion as if to stop them from saying anything before she got herself under control again, to give her a moment to compose herself. Breath in, breath out. When she opened her eyes again, she sent Dean the most raw look of contempt he had ever seen.

“You don’t know, do you?” The woman sighed. The brothers exchanged a puzzled look. “Of course you don’t,” she scoffed.

Without bothering to add anything else, she opened the door carefully and went inside Seren’s room, closing the door softly behind herself after sending them a warning look to don’t come in.

“Know what?” Dean whisper-screamed, arms raised in exasperation. “Know what!”

Sam shushed him, trying to see what was going on inside the room through the small window. Dean shushed him back, pushing his brother out of the way so he could see inside too. Almost out of sight, Dr Carlyle was kneeling in front of Seren. The girl had her head down, her hair hiding her face.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked Sam in a whisper.

“Maybe if you keep quiet we could actually hear something,” Sam pointed out a bit harshly.

“Are you mad at me now?” Dean gave his brother a bewildered look, stepping away from the door. “Why are you mad at me now? Why is everyone mad at me?”

Sam shushed him again, finger to his lips as he put his ear against the door. Dean returned the gesture mockingly. The younger Winchester rolled his eyes at his brother and was about to say something in response to Dean’s mockery when a commotion started inside the room.

Ignoring Dr Carlyle’s warning, the Winchesters went into the room, careful to don’t be noticed so they could eavesdrop.

 

* * *

 

Not her too.

Now the doctor was calling her Seren, trying to tell her something she did her best to ignore completely. She wasn’t Seren, she was Jude, so it wasn’t wrong of her to turn a deaf ear to whatever the doctor was saying.

But the woman was persistent, calling her by that name over and over again, trying to reason with her or something. She also insisted that she was her stepsister, Spica. Jethro’s daughter.

Liar. A trick.

Jude had heard her when she had introduced herself to the agents. Doctor Spica Carlyle. Carlyle, not Greenberg, for starters. Someone hadn’t done her homework. Also, this Spica was already a doctor. The one Seren—Jude!—knew was still a medical student.

A bit ticked off that someone was trying to play that kind of cheap trick on her, Jude glanced at the doctor’s face.

Her heart skipped a beat.

It _was_ Spica. She looked… older, but she had the same big brown eyes, same auburn hair, same freckles, and same pair of moles on a side of her jaw. It was her without a doubt.

Which only made the situation worse. Mother and Father could appear at any moment and if Spica was there when that happened…

No, no, no.

“Seren,” Spica called, trying to sound serene as she held her by her shoulders to keep her from shaking. “Calm down. It’s okay.”

No, it wasn’t okay. She couldn’t breath, panicked tears brimming her eyes. Spica was quick to react, guiding her hands to rest over her stomach before motioning for Seren—not Jude, she didn’t have to be Jude now—to copy her respiration rhythm. After a few attempts, she was able to follow Spica’s instructions, air finally filling her lungs even if panicked thoughts kept going around her head.

“That’s it. In and out,” Spica encouraged, rubbing Seren’s back soothingly.

“You have to leave,” Seren got out in a whisper. Her voice had come out high-pitched as she fought to keep the panic she felt at bay. “You have to leave before they come.”

“They who?” Spica asked softly, still guiding her breathing.

“Mother and Father.” Seren barely got the words out without sobbing. “They’ll hurt you. I don’t want them to hurt you. Please.”

“Give me you hands,” Spica asked.

Seren shook her head frantically, a string of noes leaving her lips as she kept her hands away from Spica even if she had made no motion to grab them by force. She simply had offered her own for Seren to hold, a safe distance between them for good measure.

“Don’t make me see, please.” Seren sobbed. “I don’t want to see. Please. Please, don’t make me.”

“It’s okay. I won’t make you see.” Spica told her, her voice almost a whisper. “I’m just going to dress you hands. I’ll wear gloves while doing so. It’s protocol. Would that be enough?”

Seren considered it for a moment, biting her lower lip, before nodding. Direct contact was the problem. No skin to skin, no vision. Once Spica had put on the whitish vinyl gloves, she offered her hand for Seren to put her own over them. When she did, Seren froze seeing her hands with cuts and scraps and missing nails.

“It’s healing well,” Spica commented quietly, applying some disinfectant ointment before dressing the wounds. “You’ll have to keep an eye on the nails, make sure they grow correctly. The cuts should leave no mark.”

Seren wasn’t worried about that. She was too focused on the familiarity of the torture method. It had Mother’s signature all over it. But Mother would never use it on her, on her hands. Too visible. It would make people’s alarms go off. Father would never allow it. Then how…

“Something on your mind?” Spica asked, looking into her eyes, expectant, waiting.

Waiting for what? What was going on? What did she know? Spica was too calm and Seren was sure she was missing something, but couldn’t guess what. She tried to backtrack, to make sense of… Hell, she didn’t even know what she had to make sense. Her wounds? Spica being there, older and a doctor? The whole situation?

A headache was forming. She took the hand Spica wasn’t tending to to her forehead, rubbing circles in an attempt to sooth the pain away, massaging her temples. Her hand stopped in place, over her left temple. The skin there, it was different than the rest, slightly swollen and smoother. She traced it with her fingertips. A scar? Since when did she have a scar there?

_Enjoyed your little getaway, didn’t you?_

_Naughty kids deserve to be punished. Abominations deserve to burn._

A prick of pain made her wince, eyes watering. She remembered. Mother had done it, just like she had burned the brand on her back, but it had been different than that time. Father had been furious. That wound wouldn’t only be hard to hide but also hard to explain. No mere accident would leave such mark.

That had been the biggest difference for Jude. For Seren it was the meaning that was different. The scar on her back marked her as a monster, a demon trapped in its own meatsuit. A menace. The scar on her temple had been meant as a punishment, but it didn’t bring her any shame. For Seren, it was proof of her humanity because, when having to choose between saving oneself, of finally escaping, or helping others, protecting innocents, she had chosen the later. Through the fear, through the months, the years of punishment she had suffered and would suffer again if Mother and Father caught her, Seren had chosen to protect others instead of sacrificing them to save herself. And, without a shadow of a doubt, she would do it again.

The scar on her temple was a reminder of that. A reminder that she wasn’t rotten, like Mother had tried to drill into her head over and over. A reminder that she could do some good. A reminder that she could fight. A reminder that she—

A metallic rattling snatched her out of her thoughts, a shiver running down her body.

_You can’t escape, princess. I hold the chains._

“You have to go,” Seren stuttered, hugging herself to stop the shivering. “Father will come soon.”

“No, he won’t.” Spica said emphatically.

Seren’s head snapped up to look at Spica about to demand an explanation when she noticed something hanging in front of her face by a leather cord. A pendant in the shape of a crescent moon.

_What is it that you want, poppet?_

In an outburst, Seren snatched the pendant from Spica’s hand, holding it tightly, the rough edges almost piercing her skin, adding new wounds to the ones she already had.

That’s right. The pendant. She had the pendant. She was free from Father—from Blake. She had chosen to wear a different set of chains, ones that were looser around her wrists. The Pact.

“Are you back?” Spica asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” Seren muttered with a nod, blinking profusely, still trying to wrap her mind around the whole situation. “Yes, I’m back.” She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “Thank you for… You know.”

“You are such a handfull sometimes, twinkle.” Spica sighed, relieved, nudging Seren’s shoulder softly. “Let’s get that other hand fixed too, okay?”

Seren nodded, eyes half shut, feeling suddenly drained, limbs heavy. But she couldn’t rest. Not yet. Not there. She heard someone clearing her throat and saw Spica motion to her closed fist. If she wanted her hand tended, she had to let go of the pendant.

Warily, Seren relaxed her hold, fist slowly opening. Explaining what she would do before doing it, Spica picked the pendant and tied it around Seren’s neck. Then, she fastened the silver chain from which the seal ring hanged. Once that was done, she proceeded to inspect Seren’s injured hand.

“Camille?” Seren asked in a whisper as she watched her stepsister work.

“She’s fine.” Spica answered with a roll of her eyes. “Bobby found her. I’m sure he’ll bring her.”

The woman might not be frowning, but Seren could tell Spica was mulling over something by the way she was squinting her eyes as she applied the disinfectant.

“Something on your mind?” Seren echoed Spica’s words from before with an attempt of a smirk, hissing when her stepsister pressed a bit harder than needed on a cut.

“Don’t go smart on me, twinkle.” Spica warned as she started with the dressing. Now she was openly frowning. “I’m pissed.”

“And I’m a convalescent patient.” That costed Seren a little pinch on her arm. “Ouch. Now you are being mean.” She pouted playfully.

“When were you going to tell me?” Spica’s expression was grave.

“Tell you what?” Seren wondered, head tilted to a side. Spica gave her a glare. “Don’t look at me like that. Your fault for not being more specific. You know the rules.”

“That you’ve been working with the Winchesters. With John.” Spica almost growled. “ _Papa_ wouldn’t have liked that.”

“ _Papa_ knew that I’ve worked with John.” Seren answered slowly, observing how Spica reacted to her words. She seemed taken aback. “He didn’t look happy about it but said nothing against it, so…” Seren shrugged her shoulders, lips pressed together with an innocent look.

“Well, _I_ don’t like you working with the Winchesters. Specially the short one. He’s an ass,” Spica remarked, making Seren snort a laugh she had tried to hold in. Once Spica finished with the dressing, she patted Seren’s hand softly. “All done. Remember to keep it dry and change it often.”

“Now that you mention those two. Did you kick them out?” Seren wondered slightly amused, flexing her fingers both to test them and the new bandages. “Dean can be a bit… difficult,”Seren finally got out after a while thinking of the right way to put it. “But they are okay. They’ve helped me a few times.”

“So I’ve heard.” What? “Sirius was better at keeping the family updated on your whereabouts than you are.” Spica explained with a sad—and somewhat guilty—sigh after seeing Seren’s wide-eyed expression. “I’m guessing he never told you?”

“I knew he called you and the others from time to time.” Sirius hadn’t been exactly discreet even if he tried. “But not that he was in charge of my personal newsletter.”

“Sincerely, it was nice to have news of you each week instead of wondering if you had been murdered and left to root on a ditch.” Spica needled, crossing her arms. Seren huffed. “You should go visit _papa_ and Gwen. I’m sure they would like that, specially after what happened to Sirius.”

“I don’t think so,” Seren bit off. “If fact, that’s the very reason I should never show my face around there.”

“Seren,”Spica sighed.

“And if you really believe Lyra will let me set foot in that house, then you are more of a fool than I am.” She scoffed.

“That’s enough!” Spica snapped, frustrated. “How long are you going to keep living like this? Keeping away from everyone, being hunted down like an animal, and trying to fix something that can’t be fixed,” Seren opened her mouth to answer, but she was cut off. It had been a rhetorical question. “Don’t you see how unhealthy this is? Please, I beg you, do yourself a favor and stop all this nonsense. Go home.” She remarked.

“The world is my home,” Seren smirked lazily motioning around.

That place was not her home any more and Spica knew it well. This discussion wasn’t new and Seren had passed the point of taking it seriously anymore. She and Spica might not share blood, but they both could be pretty stubborn.

“Don’t go quoting Rosa on me, twinkle.” Spica reproached. “We both know she isn’t precisely the best example of a healthy lifestyle.”

“She does seem to enjoy it though.” Seren shrugged looking around if only to avoid Spica’s stern expression and disapproving frown.

“And you?” Spica retorted. “Does living like this make you happy?”

Could be worse.

A pair of knocks on the door cut Seren before she could answer. The stepsisters’ attention snapped to the door only to find a pair of wide-eyed Winchesters staring at them like deer in the headlights.

After the first shock passed, Dean’s mouth started opening and closing like a fish out of the water as he tried to come up with something to say. Anything. Preferably a believable excuse. But nothing came out.

Sam, for his part, had opted for attempting to pacify the two women, giving them a sheepish, innocent, apologetic smile that showed his dimples. That had seemed to work sometimes. Not this one though.

Both Spica and Seren were scowling at them, glaring daggers. Since when had they been there? How much had they heard?

“Ms Vaughan? Dr Carlyle?” Rosaura’s voice asked from outside. “Are the agents still with you?”

“Yes! Yes, we are,” Dean was quick to answer, seeing a way out of the little situation they had gotten themselves into.

It was a no-brainer that Seren was searching in her curses repertoire for one to use against them as punishment for eavesdropping, so it was for their best interest to not give her enough time to consider which one would be the most effective as a corrective method.

Swiftly, Dean opened the door so Seren nor the doctor had a chance to say nor do anything. Once he saw the round face of the nurse, he gave her a bright smile that seemed to leave the woman puzzled, slightly squinting at him. If it was for him, Dean would have kissed her in thanks for such timely arrival.

Close by the nurse stood a suited up Bobby. It was always kind of strange to see him without his signature baseball cap. Seeing Dean’s wide smile and Sam’s distressed stares from him to the women inside the room, Bobby arched an eyebrow at them, silently asking what was going on. Sam gave him a tense smile, still watching Seren and Spica closely. Dean simply shook his head, discreetly, before letting both Bobby and the nurse in, introducing the former under his FBI alias to Seren and the doctor to keep their cover.

“How are you feeling, Ms Vaughan?” Bobby asked, ever the professional.

“Good,” Seren answered with the best business smile Dean had ever seen from her. “Your agents are so nice, sir. So careful.” The smile turned poisonous when she stared at the older Winchester. “They practically treat me like royalty.”

Subtle, Dean would give her that much.

“I see,” Bobby muttered in response, giving Dean a disappointed look.

So, to resume. Yeah, Seren was angry. No, she wouldn’t let go that that ‘little’ episode she had had had been Dean’s fault. Because he had ignored her warnings of not calling her princess. No wonder Bobby was on her side on that matter. Great. Just… Just great.

Since none of them wanted to spend more time there than needed, things went rather quickly from that point onwards. The group played its part for everything to go as smoothly as possible too.

After Seren said her goodbyes to the nurse, Spica pushed Seren’s wheelchair till they got to a side entrance where Bobby had parked a rented car that fit the FBI agent facade better than his car or Seren’s van.

Once outside, there had been an argument about if Seren was in condition to get in the car on her own or not. Seren ended up acceded for Sam to help her into the car. Spica, Bobby and Sam had ganged up on her. Not fair.

Following Spica’s instructions, Sam had gotten ready to carry Seren on his arms but she stopped him, saying she had agreed to receiving some assistance, not to being carried like a little kid.

“Stop being stubborn for once, twinkle.” Spica sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“I don’t think she can,” Bobby huffed, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“For someone that wanted to leave so badly, you surely are taking you sweet time.” Dean jabbed, stopping himself in time. He had been on the brink of calling her princess again.

Seren glared at him, suspicion in her eyes, as if she could guess what he had almost said. With a huff, she accepted to be carried and Sam picked her up, carefully setting her on the front passenger's seat.

“We didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Not that much.” Sam corrected himself with a shy smile as he buckled her in.

The only indication that Seren had heard was the little nod she gave him. He wanted to insist a bit more, to don’t leave like that, but Dean seemed in as much in a hurry to leave as he had been to get to the hospital. Maybe even more since Spica kept glaring daggers at him each time she heard him even breath.

Thinking of an alternative, Sam scribbled his phone number on a sheet of paper of the notepad he carried in one of his pockets, and tore it off. He handed the piece of paper to Seren who looked at it before, finally, looking at Sam’s face.

“You know I could just ask Bobby for it if I wanted, right?” Seren said, arching an eyebrow at him. Before Sam had time to move away the note, Seren snatched it, picking it between her index and middle fingers, a mischievous smirk on her lips. “Just kidding, jolly giant. I appreciate it. Still mad about the eavesdropping though.”

“Seems reasonable,” Sam smiled before Dean bellowed his—fake—name, making him flinch before rolling his eyes. “Remember, you have to rest and get better. You promised.” Dean called him again. “Take care, okay?”

“Right back at you, lad.” Seren returned.

And so, the Winchester were gone in a hurry.

Spica’s goodbye and last lecture for Seren was cut short as her pager went off, calling her back to duty. She stayed enough to make sure Seren had picked up all the medicines and antibiotics she had been prescribed.

“And call more often, you inconsiderate child!” Spica called before going in, head peeking out the door as she added. “I mean it, twinkle!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Seren waved her off. “Go back to work! And buy Mr Carlyle something nice!”

“Why? He already has me.”

“Precisely!”

Bobby didn’t know if to laugh or grumble at the silly exchange. What he did know was where Seren would ask him to take her as soon as he got in the car: to go get a certain moss-green van.

God did she look drained, with all those bruises and that lost look, staring out the window with half-shut eyes.

“Let’s take you home, kid.” Bobby sighed sadly as he started the engine.

 

* * *

 

“You didn’t apologize,” Sam said as he checked a case on his laptop.

“You already said that, Sammy.” Dean grumbled, starting to get annoyed.

“You should call her,” Sam insisted.

“Just to say I’m sorry?” Dean gave him a bewildered look. He shook his head. “Yeah, I’m not doing that.”

“You should though.” Sam said with a shrug. “How many times did she tell you to don’t call her princess?”

“I know,” Dean groaned. “But I’m not calling her.”

“How about calling Seren to ask about Bela? You know, get us some info.” Sam suggested. Dean actually considered it for a moment. “Then, you apologize.”

Dean groaned, wanting to hit his head against the wheel. The only phone call he would make later on would be to call Bobby so someone would finally explain to him a few things. Why calling Seren princess had made her act like that? Who had burned a freaking devil’s trap on her back and why? Why did Spica hold a grudge against John? What did she know about his father that he didn’t?

He really couldn’t wait to get an answer to those questions and understand the whole situation.

“Dean—”

“I’m not calling Seren, Sam.” Dean groaned. “Do we even know which phone number she uses now? No, we don’t.” He answered himself before Sam could. “And I don’t think Seren needs, nor wants, an apology from me. She’s a tough one. You saw her when we left. She was fine.”

Sam didn’t look too convinced.

 

* * *

 

A scream tore the silence of the night.

Seren woke up with a start, her hand going straight for the knife she hid under the pillow, fingers closing as tightly as they could around its handle. Cold sweat ran down her back. Throat sore. She had woken herself again. Stupid nightmares.

But it hadn’t been just that this time. One of her security charms, a kind of silent alarm had gone off. Seren waited, ears sharp, listening to every little noise outside the van, keeping up her guard as she tried to calm her heartbeat.

Breath, she reminded herself.

A rustling and soft banging on the side door made her tense, adjusting her grasp on the knife and thinking of every resource she had in there, ready for a fight.

She wouldn’t get caught so easily again.

The banging turned into scratching and a pitiful whine reached her ears, followed by a few deep barks.

It was Caleb

Taking a deep calming breath, Seren put the knife back into its sheath and went to open the door.

“Hey there,” She greeted the invisible hound, stifling a yawn with one hand and offering the other for the hound to press his head for a few pats.

Instead of the harsh fur she expected, Seren’s fingers touched something smoother, like leather. Caleb let out a throaty excited bark and Seren opened her eyes to see what he had brought.

“Oh, you sweet spawn of hell!” She cooed, picking up her favorite boots she had thought lost. “You shouldn’t have.”

Not bothering to check if Caleb had left his teeth marks on them nor why they seemed to weight more than usual, Seren put the boots on a side before feeling for the hell-hound’s head so she could give him a well deserved rub, scratching behind his ears.

He had saved her. Caleb had not only found her and driven Fletcher off, he had also helped her keep sane, recovering the pendant and putting it in her tied hands for her to hold onto. He couldn’t bite off her ties without hurting her, so he had stayed with her, keeping her warm as better as he could until those kids had appeared and called emergencies.

If it wasn’t the hell-hound, she would have died way before help had arrived.

Seren held softly both sides of Caleb’s head with shaky hands, resting her forehead on his, whispering words of praise and words of gratitude as she felt relieved tears running down her cheeks.

A broad tongue licked the tears away, making her exclaim in disgust. Hell-hound droll was more of a kind of stinky ooze than saliva, certainly not something pleasant to have on your face. Complaining playfully, Seren cleaned her face with her sleeve before brawling with the hound. It ended with a tickle attack, the hound rolling on the ground while Seren rubbed his belly, careful of the scabs and burned skin.

After a big yawn left her mouth, Seren went back into the van, motioning for Caleb to come in. Camille shook rather violently when the hell-hound jumped in, happy that his master would let him stay instead of sending him away.

Seren crawled back to her mattress, patting besides herself, seeing the material sink under Caleb’s weight as he made himself comfortable there. Maybe cuddling with her fearsome hell-hound would reassure Seren enough to keep the nightmares away so she could finally get some decent shuteye.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insecure author asking for some feedback again.  
> Thank you and have a nice day.  
> I love you.


	13. Chapter 27 — Monument Meetings

Sleep was over rated. Why spend about eight hours unconscious when one could be doing anything else? Like running errands. Doing some crafts. Driving around the country. Hell, even just keeping up to date with TV shows in cheap motel rooms was better than being unconscious. Right?

Sleep was for the weak.

Or so Seren tried to convince herself, mindlessly zapping between channels as she laid sprawled on the sofa of a motel room, eyelids heavy but unable to fully close them as the firsts rays of the day filtered through the closed curtains. Another sleepless night added to the list.

She wasn’t even sure how many days had passed since Bobby had drove her from the hospital to her dear Camille. A few days? A week maybe? She could only guess by her wounds healing progress.

Her bruises, faded yet still visible, pointed that not two weeks had passed. Her right eye was almost healed, only a red spot besides the iris left. Seren’s rough estimation, nine days.

The cuts and missing nails would take way longer than that to heal. She already missed being able to take a hot shower without flinching because her wounds stung, or washing her hair properly. Bandaged fingers wrapped in plastic didn’t do the trick. Only perk, Seren didn’t have to worry so much about the shower’s tray cleanliness since her feet were wrapped in plastic too.

So, to resume, at least nine days had passed since Bobby had tried to convince her to go back with him to his place and Seren had refused. She had promised Sam that she would go to Bobby’s, to rest and get better, Seren hadn’t forgotten, but she was in no condition to be near hunters. Not for a while; not even Bobby.

And so, Seren had spent a few days trying to get as much sleep as she could between nightmare and nightmare, keeping her mind busy during her waking hours with her craft and errands. Constantly on watch. Everything was suspicious. Everything made her jump.

She was bloody tired, but what was new?

Feeling herself on the brink of collapsing, Seren had finished one last errand before going around a small town in Colorado—Monument, the sign had read if she remembered correctly—with the general idea of winding down and then park Camille somewhere peaceful to spend the night. She had already tried watching TV to fall asleep a few times and it hadn’t worked, so no point in wasting money on a room when she had even less chances of falling asleep in it than in her van.

There sure were better places to relax than that town. In fact, when Seren had called Ethan to tell him a light version of what had happened, he had offered his own house for Seren to stay and recover. To think of it as a health resort, Ethan had said. He had even offered to take her to a real health resort at some point, saying that she deserved some quality R&R time.

Even after she had refused that first time, Ethan reminded her that she was more than welcome to just drop by his house and relax for as long as she wanted, no previous warning needed.

But Seren had been too prideful and too stubborn to accept his offer when she had been close by, thinking that she could bear it. Obviously, she had overestimated herself, and now she cursed her idiocy and the distance between Monument and Ethan’s house. She might be stupid sometimes, but not enough—yet—to risk falling asleep at the wheel as she drove there. Her chances were too high at the moment.

After spending a nice evening out, just walking around, ignoring the looks people threw her way due her appearance, buying some curiosities and materials, and having a nice hot chocolate with some tasty pastries, Seren went back to Camille already feeling a bit better.

Once inside the van, she got herself comfortable, arranged a few things around as she hummed to some music, and got ready to have some shut eye. With a bit of luck, she would catch up some of the rest she was missing.

If only.

The noise of a chopper woke her up. Not her nightmares. Not some idiot honking because they were bored or something—had happened more than once. None of that, no. A bloody chopper. Seriously! What were the odds?

Muttering curses between her teeth as she rolled the other way, trying to get comfortable again, Seren attempted to go back to sleep. She even resorted to the old trick of counting sheep. She had made a sort of game out of it since her encounter with Fletcher. How many sheep would she need to fall asleep this time? The more time passed, the lower the number got, but never less than three hundred. Not unless Caleb was with her.

Eighty sheep.

A bad feeling settled on her chest, a lump on her throat. Still, she kept counting, trying to shrug it off as nothing. This was a small town. She was being too sensible. That was all. Nothing to worry.

Fool.

As Seren counted a hundred forty seven sheep, the strong noise of an explosion startled her, eyes wide and heart hammering as she sat up. The bad feeling inside her chest got heavier.

It was far enough, she could just ignore it. Or drive away. Yes, that would be better. But she couldn’t do that. She should, but couldn’t. It may be none of her business, yet her gut told her to go investigate. To check what was going on. That something wasn’t right, that it wasn’t normal. Not quite.

Lost in her own thoughts, logic versus instinct, it took Seren a while to notice just how eerily quiet the night still was even after an explosion. Not a single siren. No police. No firefighters. Nothing.

That was definitely strange. Seren was sure the police station wasn’t that far from where she had parked Camille. If she had heard the explosion, there was no way they wouldn’t have heard.

Something was rotten.

As quickly as she could, Seren got dressed and armed, ready to face whatever might be going on out there as she cursed herself and her luck for the thousand time. She was going blindly into a situation she knew nothing about. Worst was, she didn’t really care. When she avoided trouble, it came for her. Well, maybe it was time she went looking for it for a change.

Quietly and cautiously, knife in her sleeve, some hex bags in her messenger bag, and her hand close to her pendant, Seren walked the streets in the direction the explosion had come from.

It was too quiet. Not a soul around. Considering the hour it was, more than normal. After a bloody explosion, not so much. Someone should have heard it, just like she had, and gotten curious or alert someone or both.

Heavy steps reached her ears. Someone was running in her general direction.

Seren stopped, staying out of sight before looking around, the fingers of one hand caressing the pendant while the other caressed the concealed knife’s handle. She found a somewhat familiar silhouette standing before the closed door of a metallic fence, their back to her as they looked around, making sure the coast was clear. In a blink, what had been a locked door opened, and the person went inside after checking around once more.

Seren read the sign on the fence.

> Vehicle Impound Yard

That made her arch an eyebrow, puzzled. Maybe someone trying to get their car back without paying the fine? Doubtful yet probable. Somehow.

While a part of her told Seren to stop getting to absurd conclusions and just follow that person close, another insisted that this was none of her business, that she should hurry up and just get the hell away from there as soon as possible. For her own good.

Feeling bold, or just plainly stupid, Seren listened to the former.

She felt a heaviness in the air she couldn’t name. Just shrugging it off, Seren, went after the silhouette as stealthily as her actual physical condition allowed her to be, careful of remaining hidden so she wouldn’t be spotted.

She watched as the person hurriedly strode straight to a black car and popped open the trunk, checking around a few times more before moving aside a fake bottom to reveal what she recognized as a hunter’s arsenal.

The mere sight of it made her freeze, her hand quickly going for her moon pendant and closing around it, its borders scratching her skin slightly where it wasn’t bandaged.

Just when she was about to curse herself once more for not listening to what had seemed to be the prudent side of her mind, Seren saw the man’s face as he checked, once again, around himself before continuing filling a duffel bag with some of the weapons and other stuff from the trunk.

Bloody. Freaking. Hell.

Of—bloody—course Seren would end up choosing to take a break in the same town Dean—freaking—Winchester would be. Maybe she should stop cursing her own luck so much. It seemed to be too effective for her own well being.

What had been a soft night breeze picked up, becoming gusts of wind that pushed stray locks of hair into her face. A shiver ran down Seren’s spine, shaking her as the lights started flickering slightly. The now wind picked up even more, making her braid wave on her back. The streetlights flickered faster. The light bulbs wouldn’t last long if it got any worse.

“What the hell?” Seren couldn’t help but to mutter to herself, looking around.

The roar of thunder broke the silence, Seren’s attention snapping in its direction, startled.

A storm was coming. Literally.

A black mass of clouds floated low, practically ground level, twisting and wriggling like a hungry beast. It advanced rapidly in their general direction, menacing purple lightning illuminating patches of it as it roared.

Seren’s feet were stuck where she stood, the need of staying hidden completely gone from her mind, forgotten as she could only observe what must have been a whole bunch of demons in their smoke form, coming for them.

She had never seen anything like that before, and she wasn’t sure the thrill she was feeling at the sight was the right reaction to have.

“Move!” Dean bellowed snapping her out of her thoughts.

Before Seren could react, a strong hand grabbed her forearm and dragged her away from there and towards the police department building. She didn’t complain, too concentrated on not tripping over her own feet and in keeping watch of the demonic cloud.

When they reached the door, Dean swiftly opened it, holding it open for her to enter, warning her of the thick line of salt on the floor. Seren managed to leap it in the last second, almost stumbling and bumping into the Winchester.

“They are coming!” he shouted as he closed the door behind her.

Seren had expected for Sam’s voice to answer back, not the high pitched scream of pure terror that came from inside. It made Seren stand even more alert, and she would have dashed towards it, on pure reflex, if it wasn’t for Dean’s hold on her arm. He hadn’t let go even after feeling her tug, nor had tightened his grasp to keep her from entering unsupervised like Seren would have expected.

Rushed by the circumstances, Seren didn’t dwell on that, turning to ask about the situation at hand, only to find Dean starting at her as if realizing now it was her. He looked taken aback, that was for sure, but he didn’t seem irritated. There was something else in those surprised green eyes as he took her presence in. Seren wasn’t sure what she saw—or thought she saw—in his expression that time but, whatever it had been, almost had made her forget she was about to ask him something.

“Situation?” A single word said with an interrogative tone still counted as a full question.

But just that was enough to bring Dean back to the present, letting go of her arm as if shocked.

After shaking his head slightly for good measure, Dean fixed her with a hard look, a small frown on his face, not because he had become hostile against her after his temporary lapse, but because he had gone back to business mode.

With a silent jerk of his head, Dean motioned for Seren to follow him down the corridor. She had just enough time to nod back before Dean went his way.

“Hurry!” He shouted as he ran.

They hadn’t even reached the main office and Dean was already passing a shotgun to someone inside, barely looking. Sam caught the firearm easily with one hand, doing a double take when he saw Seren appear behind his older brother, eyes widening. Both of them tried to say something when the place was plunged into darkness as the demonic cloud swallowed the whole building and the emergency lights flickered.

No time for pleasantries.

The building shook as the demons tried to get inside. It was to no use. All possible entrances were salted. Or, at least the obvious ones. Seren couldn’t help but to eye suspiciously around for any sort of vent. Even the most seasoned hunters forgot about sealing those from time to time.

Luckily for them, this merry bunch of demons seemed to be more of the brawling kind than the cunning type, still trying to get in by brute force instead of bothering to search for unsalted vents.

Their little group waited, silent, eyes roaming around or fixed on the ceiling. No one dared to move a muscle as the storm roared around them, shaking the building as it kept trying, in vain, to break in.

Seren took the chance to quickly asset the situation inside. Apart from the Winchesters, there were three more people trapped with them: a dark haired girl, probably her same age, silently praying with a hand to her chest; a young lad, deputy P. Amici, his badge read; and a man wearing a rumpled blue shirt with a red tie. By the way he stood, firm, even with demons literally knocking on the doors and walls, Seren guessed he was no local cop.

Finally, the demons gave up, for the moment. There was silence and the lights returned, small relieved sighs leaving some of the present as they checked on the others, finally realizing there was an extra person among them.

Seren blatantly ignored their stares, acting naturally.

“Everybody okay?” Sam asked.

“Define ‘okay’.” Seren couldn’t help but to scoff, playing with the end of her braid.

“Who are you?” the suited man asked, stepping towards her with authority.

“Seren. She’s with us,” Dean cut before the man could say anything more as he rummaged inside the duffel bag, taking out a pouch. “Everybody needs to put these on.”

From inside the pouch, Dean produced some anti possession charms and handed them to the girl, the deputy and the man. All three of them quickly put them on without question.

Seren was surprised the Winchester didn’t get a pair for themselves since Dean only had that strange talisman pendant he always wore and Sam didn’t seem to have anything hanging from his neck. Seren was thankful when the girl voiced her question.

The boys’ answer was to exchange a quick look before moving away the layers of clothes around their necks, stretching the fabric a bit to reveal an anti possession symbol tattooed over their hearts.

Well thought. Practical indeed.

She would know.

It took Seren a moment to notice the grimace on Dean’s face as he showed the ink, his eyes staring at her. When caught, he quickly looked away. But he hadn’t been fast enough. Seren caught a glimpse of pity that was in those green eyes.

She didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Feeling irritated, Seren narrowed her eyes at him and clicked her tongue in annoyance, looking away from both brothers as she leaned on a nearby desk, almost perching on it, arms crossed.

She didn’t need anyone’s pity.

“What about her?” the deputy asked, motioning to her rather nervously.

“She’s covered,” Sam assured, giving her a small sad smile.

Seren almost rolled her eyes with a loud groan.

Not him too.

“Hers is private though.” Dean added, cheeky smile in place and even adding a wink her way.

What?

That’s when Seren noticed the uneasy stares the three strangers were giving her, all because she hadn’t proved she had the symbol on her. Dean was just trying to make light of her not showing it like they had.

“Well,” she started, getting off the desk and taking off her messenger bag and jacket. “If you _really_ wanna see it.” She made as if to pull off her shirt after shrugging her shoulders. “Guess I’ll show you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the man with the red tie was quick to say when she flashed her belly, showing off some abs.

“Okay.” Seren accepted, rearranging her shirt. “As you wish,” she put her stuff back on, not missing the looks on the Winchesters’ faces.

Sam’s expression was perplexed, simply observing what she would do and, maybe, preparing for how to act after. On the other hand, Dean had been caught by surprise and left wide-eyed, mouth half-open in surprise and shock as he stared at Seren.

When he realized he had been caught looking at her like that, Dean blinked profusely before shaking his head, grumbling something to himself. He went back to checking the contents of his duffel bag with his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Stop fooling around,” he warned her.

“But it’s so much fun,” Seren pouted playfully, carefully observing everything he was taking out of the bag and taking note of it. Not bad, but not great either. “Gonna go take a look around. Get to know the place.” She announced before adding. “If you don’t mind.”

Even if she had made it look like she was asking for everyone’s permission, Seren only waited for the Winchesters confirmation that she could roam about. Sam nodded at her and Dean didn’t even look up from what he was doing as he told her to get going and make herself useful.

Ticked off, Seren punched his arm as she passed by his side.

She limited herself to just get familiar with the place and make sure the salt lines and demon traps were in top shape. She was tempted to add some wards of her own, the ones she had learned fighting the rogues Blake sent for her, but she wasn’t sure how the brother’s would react if they noticed them. Maybe they—Dean—wouldn’t even mind if she did. He didn’t seem on edge around her at all that day, so he might not think she was tampering their wards for once.

She was glad, yet not.

It wasn’t hard to figure out the cause of the change: her tragic backstory. Surely Dean had heard it from Bobby by now, of how Blake had kidnapped her on her way back from school when she was thirteen. Maybe the old man had even told the Winchesters how her mother had been gravely wounded, shot when she had tried to protect her daughter from the hunter.

The memory almost came back, but Seren was quick to block it, focusing on inspecting the devil’s trap in front of her. No use in dwelling on it. Not now. Not ever. Nothing would change anyway.

Seren didn’t know how many details Bobby had spared on his retelling of what had happened, but she was sure he had told the boys she had been missing for almost two years and how it had been the police who had found her in a dilapidated chapel along with a suited English man and Blake, bloodied and dead on the floor, near a broken demon’s trap.

Injured as the police had found Seren, the burn on her face still fresh, they had taken her to a hospital while the suited man gave his statement about what had happened in the chapel. The man told the police Blake had been some sort of cultist, a fanatic that had tried to sacrifice them, so they had killed him in self-defense.

That had been the official story, the one that appeared on the news and the one that had gotten John’s attention. Days later, he had appeared in her hospital room, posing as a fed alongside Bobby, accompanying a distraught Jethro to pick up her missing daughter and bring her finally home.

None of them ever asked Seren what had happened in that chapel nor who the English man was, but they were no fools. They knew he was a demon and that Seren had made a deal with him.

A Pact.

“There you are,” Sam’s voice called, his steps coming from behind her.

“Here I am,” Seren answered, turning with a flourish and almost losing her balance due her bag and still injured feet. She really missed her nails. “Did Dean send you to monitor me?”

“What? No,” Sam laughed awkwardly. “Of course no.”

Caught.

That was good. They might feel sorry for her but they—mainly Dean, probably—were still being careful around her. They hadn’t forgotten she was still a witch who made business with demons.

And talking about demons. To which side did the merry bunch posted outside belong to? In case she did something, anything at all, would it affect her Pact?

Worse case scenario, these demons were her boss’ minions and, for some reason, it felt more than likely. A gut feeling, along with the luck she was having that day, told Seren so. Her hunches were never wrong, and she hated it sometimes.

“We just finished taking inventory of everything Dean brought from the Impala,” Sam started. “And we were wondering if maybe you’d have something that could help.”

“About that.” Seren rubbed the back of her neck, uncomfortable to share her realization.

“No fighting demons?” Sam guessed with a sigh and a kind of disappointed look.

Seren felt a pang on her chest.

Sam saw her think about it for a long moment, her lips tightly pressed in a thin line, only to give him a painfully slow nod as answer. He had expected as much, Dean had told him so too, but he had preferred to ask. Just in case. One never knew.

He was about to downplay her refusal, when Seren harshly trusted her messenger bag towards him, knocking some air out of his lungs, making him huff as he took it.

“Hold this for me would you? I gotta go—” Seren’s eyes roamed around for a bit before settling on the toilet sign on a door nearby. “—use the restroom.” It came out completely monotone, expression blank, as if she was fed up with herself for that lame excuse.

“So,” Sam started, trying not to laugh. “Are you giving us permission to check what you have in here?” He shook the bag in his hands for emphasis.

“No,” Seren stretched the word and looked away. “If I did say that, which I didn’t, it would mean I’m helping you, lads. Which I’m not.” She pointed out, looking him straight in the eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

And in the restroom she went, keeping up the act until the end.

Sam laughed, shaking his head as he hanged the messenger bag on his shoulder before going back to the others to inspect its contents with Dean.

 

* * *

 

“Are you a hunter too?” the girl, Nancy, shyly asked.

“No, I’m not.” Seren chuckled at the idea while she kept doodling some symbols on her notebook.

Sam spied her do so over her shoulder, trying to memorize them so he could check what they did later. He noticed how Seren made sure to don’t cover them with her fingers, drawing the symbols clearly. She even highlighted some of them, stealing glances his way to make sure he had seen it. Sam couldn’t help the small thankful smile on his lips when she did so.

Nancy let out a quite oh, her eyes constantly going back to Seren, staring at her temple’s scar and other injuries. When caught, Nancy quickly averted her gaze, a slight ashamed blush coloring her cheeks as she muttered apologies. Seren waved her off with a chuckle, assuring her not to worry about it.

Dean and who had ended up being a real FBI agent, Henriksen, were talking on a side, bonding as they got the shotguns ready with salt rounds. From time to time Dean would look, discreetly, in Seren’s direction, checking what she was doing only to find her talking with Nancy, even making her laugh, and exchanging some glances with Sam who smiled softly at her.

As if feeling his stare on her, Seren looked Dean’s way, her head slightly tilted to a side in wonder. Their eyes met and Dean almost froze. She mouthed a what his way since he was still looking. Dean huffed, ignoring her question and going back to his task.

Henriksen had caught the little exchange, looking between them a few times before smiling, amused.

Deputy Amici returned from his round, saying that everything seemed to be in order. There had been no movement from the demons after they possessed some of the locals. They were just there, creepily standing outside, waiting for something. For what exactly? Who knew.

A loud crash made everyone go quiet. Glass breaking. It came from somewhere inside the police station.

Dean and Henriksen were the first to react, quickly getting up and going to inspect its origin, weapons ready. Sam and Seren followed them closely, standing at the entrance of what seemed to be a break room.

A demon had gotten in.

“How do we kill her?” Henriksen asked, rifle pointed to the intruder, ready to shoot.

“We don’t,” Sam said, lowering the other man’s weapon.

“She’s a demon,” Henriksen argued.

“She’s here to help us.” Sam assured.

Seren couldn’t help the puzzled look she sent to Sam’s back, eyebrow slightly arched, wondering since when and how did it start. Not bothering to speak her thoughts—not the best moment—Seren took a good look at the demon at hand.

Well, at her meatsuit.

A girl taller than Seren with long blonde hair stood breathless in the middle of the devil’s trap drawn on the floor, specks of blood on her face. Hers or from others, Seren wasn’t sure.

“Are yo kidding?” the deputy commented from behind them, Nancy close by.

Sam stepped closer to the blonde, making his brother sigh in exasperation. There was a small frown on Seren’s face as she tried to get the whole picture of what was going on as she looked between the brothers. It was clear Dean wasn’t happy with the demon's presence, the look he was sending her way similar to the ones Seren used to get from him. Sam, on the other hand, was looking at her with almost wonder in his eyes.

While staring at the younger Winchester, Seren caught the demon staring at her with a certain curiosity and even some surprise. It was short lived as her eyes went back to focus on Sam.

“Are you gonna let me out?” she asked him.

Without even glancing back at his brother, like Seren would have expected, Sam took out a knife and scratched the paint from the floor to break the circle, freeing the demon inside it.

“And they say chivalry's dead.” She commented to Sam with a sigh before turning to the rest of the group. “Does anyone have a breath mint? Some guts splattered in my mouth while I was killing my way in.”

She walked past everyone without a care, her heels clicking on the floor loudly. Seren narrowed her eyes at her when the demon deliberately bumped her shoulder as she passed by her side.

Dean gave his little brother a fed up look before going after the demon without saying a word. Henriksen followed him.

After watching his brother go, Sam put away the knife and walked to the windowsill to fix the salt line on it.

“Careful with the crystal shards,” Seren warned before turning around to follow after the demon too. “And someone should go get some paint to fix that.” She added, vaguely pointing towards the broken devil’s trap.

She could have done so herself, but that would be helping.

“Thirty hit men gunning for us.” Seren head Dean complain. “Who sent them?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” the demon said, nodding towards Seren as she entered the office.

She froze in place, almost mid step. A deer caught in the headlights. Seren stared with wide open eyes between the demon and the two armed men in front of her, the accusation so unexpected that she had become unable to fully hide the startled expression on her face behind her usual blank mask even after a moment had passed.

That was all Dean needed to see.

“I’m asking you,” Dean countered with a glare, tone harsh. “Who sent them.” He repeated.

“Seriously?” the demon said, looking between Dean and Seren before tilting her head to a side to give Sam an accusatory look as he stood in the doorway. “You didn’t tell Dean?”

Seren would swear she heard a smile in that sentence.

“Oh, I’m surprised.”

Yeah, there was definitely a smile there. Specially when she saw Dean’s confused expression as he looked at his little brother for an explanation of what he was missing.

The demon kept talking, about a new big bad, one that wanted to get rid of the competition, of Sam, so she could rule over all demons with no opposition.

Lilith.

The mere name made a chill go down Seren’s spine.

“You knew about this?” Dean asked his brother, royally annoyed.

Sam didn’t answer, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Well, gee, Sam. Is there anything else I should know?!”

“She’s also the one holding that witch’s leash,” the demon pointed out offhandedly, motioning for Seren. “Just to let everything out in the open.”

Now she was really trying to sow some discord and, by the look of distrust and betrayal Dean gave Seren for a second, the demon had indeed succeeded.

Seren ignored both of them, keeping her expression completely neutral, unfazed. The surprise effect was gone after the first accusation. She wouldn’t even frown at the demon. That would be like admitting defeat.

Before Dean could ask neither Sam nor Seren for more explanations, the demon practically demanded the Colt, which only led to more awkward glances around from the brothers. Sam avoided looking at her, so she turned to Dean, asking where it was.

“It got stolen.” Sam finally answered, glancing at Seren for a moment as if to let her know something.

Seren was confused at first but then she had a hunch that a certain mutual acquaintance had something to do with the missing Colt. Certainly Bela could have some serious bad timing with her thievery sometimes, Seren would admit that much. It wouldn’t be the first time her friend ‘borrowed’ something she would need in the short run.

That information didn’t sit well with the demon, who went on a little rant about how stupid and clumsy the brothers were for letting someone steal something as important as the freaking Colt from them. By the look Dean was giving Sam, it seemed to have been due the younger Winchester carelessness or something. Truthfully, she didn’t care.

“Fantastic,” The demon finished, getting up from the desk she had been sitting on, pacing around, her back to all of them. “This is peachy.”

“Ruby.” Sam called, only to be silenced by her with harsh words and a brusque gesture.

At least now Seren knew the demon’s name.

“Fine,” Ruby conceded, annoyance clear, turning around to face the group. “Since I don’t see that there’s no other option.” Her eyes went over everyone present. “There’s one other way I know how to get you out of here alive.”

As she listened to her words, Seren walked to one of the desks, leaning on it as she crossed her arms over her chest, not loosing sight of any of the demon’s movements.

“What’s that?” Dean asked, not as tense as before.

“I know a spell.” Ruby assured, piquing Seren’s interest.

The spell would vaporize every demon in a one-mile radius, caster included since she was a demon too. Ruby didn’t waste time to remark that she would have to die because the Winchesters had lost the Colt, even asking as a dead wish for them to be more careful next time.

Seren had a bad hunch about all this. If such spell existed, its cost would be substantial. It just sounded way too powerful against demons for hunters to ignore. There must be some sort of huge catch laying somewhere.

“Okay,” Dean accepted, getting up. “What do we need to do?

“Aww… You can’t do anything.” Ruby cooed at him. “This spell is very specific.” Seren had thought as much. “It calls for a person of virtue.”

Of course it did. Seren restrained herself from blatantly rolling her eyes.

“I’ve got virtue.” Dean said with a nod, his way of volunteering.

A loud snort could be heard as Seren failed to hold in her laughter, awkwardly coughing after it to try to disguise it. Dean sent her a short glare before Ruby chuckled at his words openly.

“Nice try,” she said.

“You are no virgin, pretty boy.” Seren completed, shaking her head with a sigh, looking down at her boots, a frown forming between her brows.

A spell that needed a virgin. Such a classic.

“Nobody is a virgin,” Dean affirmed categorically after laughing.

Seren would like to disagree to that, but said nothing.

The silence that settled after his statement was a tense one as Ruby held Dean’s stare before turning to look at Nancy. Almost blushing, fingers fidgeting with the cross around her neck, the girl looked away from them, arms tightly crossed to herself.

“No.” Dean said slowly, looking at her, arching his eyebrows in surprise. “No way. You’re kidding me. You’re—”

“What? It’s a choice, okay?” Nancy said defensively.

“So, you’ve never…” Dean started, kind of lost for words. “Not even once?”

“That’s enough, Dean.” Seren cut him, tired of the turn the conversation had taken. “Get over it, will you?”

“Yeah… No. I mean…” He started stuttering. “Wow.”

He seemed really shocked that someone would go through life without sex, for some reason. Maybe because he himself couldn’t. Seren just sighed, shaking her head at the Winchester.

“So, this spell.” Nancy resumed, setting the conversation back on track. She had a smile on her face, happy to be able to help. “What can I do?”

Seren had a bad feeling. She could guess where this was going, and she didn’t like it. Ever so slowly and as casually as she could, to not call any attention on herself, Seren set her hands in motion. One felt for her knife’s handle. The other crept closely to her pendant. Then, she waited, observing the scene develop.

“You can hold still,” Ruby said, walking towards Nancy, stopping right before her. Seren followed her every move closely. “While I cut your heart out of your chest.”

Nancy gasped an exclamation, alarmed at the reveal. Dean questioned the demon’s sanity straightaway, outraged she even thought that it could be an option to be even considered. Ruby excused herself saying that, at least, she was offering a solution.

“You’re offering to kill somebody,” Dean pointed out, outraged.

“And what do you think is gonna happen to this girl when the demons get in?” Ruby retorted.

Seren closed her eyes while the argument continued, resting them while she still could. The demon kept insisting it was the only way for them to get out of there alive. Dean and Henriksen were the ones refusing the whole idea, while Nancy tried to get everyone’s attention so she could speak but her voice was too meek. The poor deputy was completely silent, surely watching the argument like a match of tennis.

But there was something that was bothering Seren. Not the price of the spell. Not the dire situation all of them were in, nor the fact that the demon holding her pact was the cause of said situation—she couldn’t care less about that, to be honest.

What was bothering Seren was Sam’s silence. The Sam she thought she knew would have objected against that sort of spell as soon as he had heard it would need a human sacrifice. An innocent sacrificed. But he had said nothing, and it could only mean he did consider it an option.

Her head started to hurt.

“Would everybody please shut up?!” Nancy snapped, making all eyes go to her. Seren kept listening, only frowning for a second at the outburst due the sudden noise. “All the people out there… will it save them?”

Ruby answered honestly, telling Nancy that as long as the bodies were okay, everyone would be fine once the demons were gone.

There was a long, heavy silence after and, even with her eyes closed, Seren could see the scene on her mind as everybody waited, expectant, for Nancy to make the final decision.

Seren knew exactly which words would leave Nancy’s lips next.

“I’ll do it.” The girl couldn’t keep her voice from breaking at the end.

Brave girl. Selfless girl. Kind girl.

Stupid innocent girl.

Seren clenched her jaw, headache getting worse. She should have ignored the explosion. She should have stayed in Camille. She shouldn’t have stopped in that bloody town.

Dean and the FBI agent refused as soon as Nancy acceded, trying to convince her that she didn’t have to do that. But the girl was adamant in saving her friends.

Ruby was firm in her mantra that the spell was their only option, that they didn’t really have a choice.

“Sam, you know I’m right,” she said, trying to get someone on her side.

He said nothing.

Seren didn’t like his silence at all.

“Sam?” Dean called, clearly expecting his brother to support him.

But Sam remained silent.

Not much of a choice.

“One virgin against thirty people outside plus five inside,” Seren weighed, eyes still closed, motioning with her hands both options, balancing them as if she was a scale. “It’s not a hard decision to make, pretty boy.”

“Of course you would agree with a demon,” Dean sneered at her after a first moment of shock, a deep scowl on his face. “Sacrificing a sweet innocent girl just to save your own—”

“Cut the righteous speech, will you?” Seren retorted, tone cold and a frown of her own, sharp eyes fixing him in place. “I never said she had to be the one sacrificed. Now did I?”

That left the Winchester even more confused, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to understand what she was saying to no avail.

“There’s another virgin in the room, pretty boy.” She hinted with a tired sigh.

Seeing as Dean wasn’t getting her point even after saying that, Seren pointed at herself with a mocking flourish.

“Nah,” Dean laughed, shaking his head. “You are pulling my leg. Nice try; awful timing.”

Seren crossed her arms over her chest, a serious expression on her face as she arched a judgmental eyebrow at the Winchester, waiting for him to take her seriously.

“Wait. For real?” Dean had a bemused smile on his face as he looked at her up and down.

A sigh left Seren’s lips. There she was, offering herself as a sacrifice so Nancy didn’t have to die there, and the only thing Dean Winchester could think of was the fact that she was a virgin too.

Lovely.

“Yes, pretty boy. I’m a virgin,” she assured him, massaging the bridge of her nose. “Ask the demon for confirmation if you don’t believe me.” She motioned in Ruby’s general direction with her free hand. “Now, can we move on to more urgent matters? Like, is there anything else needed for the spell?”

Was she serious?

“Are you serious?” Dean asked, stunned.

“Deadly,” she answered, matter-of-fact.

A spine-chilling feeling overtook Dean when he looked into Seren’s eyes. They were devoid of feeling. Numb. The look of someone on the brink of giving up and about to get what they wanted.

To rest.

It wasn’t the first time he saw it on Seren. Not that night. It made him uneasy, like she shouldn’t be left alone or she would disappear. Forever. That’s why Dean had dragged her with him when he had ran from the demons. What else could he had done? Leave her to the demonic cloud’s mercy? Nah-ah. No way.

He felt a shiver at the memory of Seren standing in the open, relaxed, simply watching as the darkness came closer and closer, not a single sign nor intention of fleeing from its path, to get away from it.

It had almost looked like Seren was welcoming it to devour her completely.

And now she was volunteering to become a human sacrifice. One virgin for thirty five people, as she had put it. An easy decision, she had said.

A movement in the corner of his eye brought Dean out of his thoughts and back to the present, where Ruby had moved to stand in front of Seren. The demon had her knife in her hand while Seren just stood there, stance wide, arms to her sides and head high, expression neutral.

“Wait, wait, wait! Stop!” Dean cut, stepping between the two girls and motioning for everybody to stay where they were and keep calm. “Nobody kills any virgins. Sam, I need to talk to you.” He added, walking to the door. “You too, sweetheart.”

It took Seren a look around to make sure he meant for her to go, following after Sam with fast strides.

As he walked to a more secluded part in the station where the others wouldn’t hear them talk, Dean kept mulling over Seren volunteering. It was just too weird for her to get herself involved and not just observe from the sideline, making nagging comments.

What about her Pact with the demons? Lilith was the one holding it, or so Ruby had said. Lilith’s demons were the ones posted outside, right? Which meant Seren couldn’t do anything against them or her dear Pact would become void. Right? If she did nothing even when her own brother was killed due demon business, there was no way she would do anything now.

It made no freaking sense.

Yet there she was, offering herself as sacrifice so Nancy could live, to help them get out alive and save the people outside.

“What are you thinking?” Dean snapped at both of them, turning to face them. “You are volunteering to be sacrificed.” He pointed at Seren, who just held his stare as if he was overreacting. “And you seem to be actually considering all of this madness.” Dean added, turning to his brother with an accusatory finger.

“We are talking about thirty people out there, Dean.” Sam noted irately.

“Innocent people,” Seren pointed out, earning a glare from Dean. She raised her hands in surrender at it, as if just saying.

“Who are going to die along with everyone in here,” Sam finished in a quiet, severe voice.

“It doesn’t mean that we throw away the rule book and stop acting like humans.” Dean retorted in the same manner. He made to add more, but stopped short, throwing a glance Seren’s way before adding. “If that’s how you win wars, then I don’t want to win.”

“Good thing this isn’t your choice then, pretty boy.” Seren said, hand on her hip and head high in defiance. “I volunteered. Soon, you’ll own your life to this little witch. You are welcome.” She added with a gesture of her hand.

“Oh, yeah?” Dean faced her, mirroring her posture but with his arms crossed. “What about that Pact of yours? Wouldn’t you be breaking it with this?”

“Not really.” She said with a hint of a lopsided proud smile. “It says I can’t fight demons, not that I can’t be _used_ to get rid of them.” Seren tapped her temple to remark how clever she was for finding that loophole.

Like that was something to be so proud of.

“And what about after you are gone?” Dean insisted, trying to make her back down. “What about your family?”

“You mean what’s left of it? The part that hates me?” Seren scoffed, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one leg. “I’m sure they’ll manage just fine without me, pretty boy.” She sighed, shrugging her shoulder nonchalantly. “And why do you suddenly care so much?”

True. Why did he care? Not so long ago, he was pointing his gun at her, threatening with killing her on the spot just because she was a witch. Now though, it didn’t feel right to him to let her become a sacrifice to save a bunch of people, he and Sam included.

“Because Ellen and Bobby were right. You aren’t that bad to have around.” Dean said calmly. It seemed to take her by surprise that he mentioned them, her whole stance relaxing a bit. “And Ellen would have my ass if she ever heard.” He added with a soft laugh.

That actually made Seren chuckle, covering her mouth discreetly to hide her amused smile at the idea, looking away and shaking her head.

He wasn’t wrong about that.

“Then what do we do?” Sam asked, subsided compared to before, looking at his brother intently.

“I’ve got a plan,” Dean assured with an uncanny degree of confidence for the situation they were in. “I’m not saying it’s a good one. I’m not even saying that it’ll work.”

“Reassuring,” Seren couldn’t help but to mutter under her breath.

“But it sure as hell beats killing a virgin,” Dean finished pointedly.

There would be no sacrifices on his watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to fit the whole episode in here but between the chapter becoming too long and not updating anything in a long time, I decided to cut it in two. It was this or posting a notice chapter just to say I'm still alive. I really hate those, gives false hopes of a real chapter and then nothing.  
> I'm so sorry for the radio silence, but my writing schedule was blown to dust and I'm still trying to pick up the pieces. Going back to studying does that sometimes. So, yeah, not even a chapter a month. Please don't hate me.
> 
> Still begging for some feedback, pals. My anxiety isn't helping me write.  
> And, as always, thank you so for reading my work and dealing with me.  
> Love you all.


	14. Chapter 28 — Siege

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live (barely)  
> Happy New Year!

Dean’s plan wasn’t as bad as he had made it sound. It might be not as foolproof as the spell, but it was the best they could do with the resources they had at hand and without having to spill any blood.

It was a simple thing, really: let the demons in, cut all exits, use the sound system to exorcise them.

Ruby wasn’t that confident about it though, looking annoyed as she sat on one of the desks. Seren had opted to sit on the floor, her back propped against the wall as she kept doodling on her notebook ,trying not to think too much about anything. Dean was pacing around, calmly, waiting for Sam to finish getting the exorcism recorded and hooked to the sound system. Henriksen, Nancy and deputy Amici were making sure that everything else needed to set the plan into motion was ready.

Sam came back, closing the door behind him rather loudly, getting Ruby’s and Dean’s attention. Seren just spared a side glance at him, enough to see the somber expression on his face. Although she didn’t give much though to Sam’s seriousness, Dean seemed to suddenly become worried, quickly asking if the system worked, afraid that it might have broken at some point and ruin the plan, his brain already trying to find another alternative.

The sound system did work though, Sam just wasn’t too sure about his brother’s plan, calling it insane. Ruby backed his opinion, pointing out that his words were an understatement.

Dean tried to explain his plan again, to reassure them both that it could work, but Ruby cut him short.

“I know it’s not gonna work.” She got up from the desk. “So long, boys.”

“So, you are just gonna leave?” Sam asked, an accusatory undertone to the question.

“A rat leaving the sinking ship.” Those words left Seren’s mouth casually, in a slightly singsong tone, too absorbed on her drawings to notice she had actually said it loud enough for the demon to hear.

“Hey!” Ruby exclaimed, turning around to glare at Seren but the girl didn’t even glance up from her notebook, completely ignoring her. With a huff, the demon opted to face Sam, a hand on her hip. “I was gonna kill myself to help you win. I’m not gonna stand here to watch you lose.”

“You could help them fight.” Seren pointed out, eyes looking up and fixed on the demon. There was a hint of a mocking smirk on her lips.

“Look who’s talking,” Ruby scoffed at her with disdain.

“I already offered myself for the sacrifice thingy. Can’t really do more than that.” Seren shrugged, focusing back on her notebook before muttering quite clearly. “Unlike others.”

“I _tried_.” Ruby claimed, her eyes fixed on Sam’s. “I really did.” She took a few steps towards him. “I’m disappointed, but clearly I bet on the wrong horse.”

Something in the phrasing along the tense silence that settled after those words got Seren’s attention, suspicion knitting her eyebrows together. Seren stared up from her drawings, eyes slightly narrowed as they alternated between between looking at the demon and at the younger Winchester.

The both of them were staring intently into each other’s eyes.

“Do you mind letting me out?” Ruby asked Sam, a veiled sigh of defeat leaving her lips.

With a soft ‘sure’, the Winchester walked her to one of the exits.

Seren watched the demon go, frown still in place and eyes narrowed at the blonde’s back before Sam’s body blocked her from view. There was something there, between Sam and Ruby. What exactly? Seren couldn’t even begin to guess, but the hunch she felt each time she had seen those two interact was not the good kind.

And, if that hunch wasn’t enough, Seren would swear Ruby’s words were meant to manipulate Sam, to guilty trip him. It lead Seren to wonder about the demon’s true agenda. There was just no way Ruby was trying to help the Winchesters out of the good of her heart. Something must be in it for her, something good enough to risk having all the other demons against her for siding with the pair of hunters.

Nothing good at all.

“I don’t like her,” Seren found herself saying out loud, still glaring at the door.

“That makes two of us.” She heard Dean say, but his voice came from right above her.

Puzzled, Seren looked up, finding the Winchester’s face looming right over her, almost making her freeze in place.

Dean was leaning against the wall with one shoulder, arms crossed, sawn-off shotgun still in hand as he stood slightly bent over her to spy her notebook’s content none too subtly. An annoyingly smug smile graced his lips at the wide eyed look Seren gave him, evidently satisfied with himself for having surprised her.

Seren closed the notebook abruptly yet put the pen behind her ear slowly, not taking her narrowed eyes from Dean’s at any moment. Seren didn’t appreciate the way he was still hovering over her, as if remarking their height difference. Of course Dean would be taller than her now since she was sitting on her floor while he was still standing, even if slightly bent. The hunter’s smirk stayed in place if it didn’t widen slightly at her annoyance.

He was really starting to get under her skin.

Forcing her exasperation out of her expression, Seren sharply got up, purposely taking more space than needed so Dean had to move aside if he didn’t want her to bump into him.

Casually massaging her nape, Seren went to where the boys had left her bag, putting away her notebook before checking that everything inside was in order after the Winchesters had gone through it. Once she made sure everything was as it should, Seren slung the messenger bag on her shoulder.

“Are you gonna leave too?” Dean’s voice asked from behind her. It sounded tense, defensive even.

“I’m no rat, pretty boy.” Seren assured with a dry chuckle, adjusting the belt of the messenger bag so it was the right length. “And this ship isn’t sinking yet. Not like it will.” She added offhandedly, shrugging her shoulders as if what she had just said was a completely obvious statement.

Dean couldn’t help letting out a mix between a chuckle and a relieved sigh that seemed to pique Seren’s curiosity as she peeked over her shoulder to steal a glance his way. Even though her expression remained blank, Dean could tell, somehow, that she was slightly surprised by his reaction.

Seren’s confusion only seemed to grow when the Winchester gave her a faint yet grateful smile, glad to have someone believe that his plan wouldn’t fail miserably, to have someone trust his idea even when he himself had his doubts about it.

Then, Dean’s kind of soft smile changed to a smug smirk, making Seren’s expression turn sour at what it could mean. Still, he said nothing, just kept looking at her with that idiotic smile plastered on his face.

“I’ll bite.” Seren mumbled, knowing full well she would regret her next words. “What is it, pretty boy?”

“I still can’t believe you are a virgin,” Dean laughed. Seren rolled her eyes at him, crossing her arms. “Can I ask why?”

“No.” But he was gonna insist anyway.

“Choice like Nancy?” See?

“Not quite,” Seren sighed tiredly, hoping for that kind of bland answer to deter further questioning.

In another situation, maybe—and that was a big maybe—she wouldn’t have minded answering Dean’s kinda invasive questions, but it definitely wasn’t the time nor the moment for such conversation.

“‘Not quite’?” Dean echoed. “Care to elaborate on that, sweetheart?” He taunted with a saucy smirk.

It was crystal clear Dean would keep pestering her until his brother got back—how long can it take to let a demon out, seriously—or till his heart's content. It might work as a distraction from the current situation for him but it was becoming more of a nuisance to Seren.

She would have to cut that distraction short herself.

“How about this?” Seren said turning to fully face Dean as she took the pen from her ear, making a flourish with it before using it to point at him.

Dean’s body tensed, his eyes keeping close watch on the pen, barely blinking as if, if he did, the pen would transform into a knife. Seren felt the impulse to pull off that trick, quickly scratching it. She could, her knife still up her sleeve, but it really wasn’t the best moment to be fooling around.

Some other time, maybe.

“First, we survive the night.” Seren took a step closer to him. He took one back. “And then,” One step forward. One step back. “I satisfy that strange curiosity of yours.” His eyes jumped from the pen to her face. Another step forward, but Dean stayed completely still this time, the tip of the pen lightly touching his chest.

Seren stared intently into Dean’s stupid green eyes as they drifter over her face, most probably searching for any tell she might have, to see if she was trying to fool him into something.

But she was wrong in her guessing, He wasn’t searching for any tell when his eyes stared into hers, nor when they focused on her lips. He was simply… staring at her.

“Deal?” Seren asked, tapping one of his flannel’s buttons softly with the pen.

Dean let out a breathy ‘sure’, moistening and then biting his lower lip. Seren missed the gesture, too busy staring at the buttons of his flannel, almost counting them as she had started to feel rather awkward in the silence that had settled between them.

“Great. Lovely,” Seren celebrated unenthusiastically, taking a sudden step back and quickly putting the pen away in her bag. “Let us go now.”

She turned just in time to see Sam coming back to meet them, asking if everyone was ready. That made Dean snap out of whatever reverie he had gotten lost in, but not fast enough for Sam to don’t notice the lapse.

Sam made a sort of interrogative gesture to his brother to which Dean answered with a nonsensical gesture of his own. That only made the younger Winchester more confused, looking between his brother and Seren with a puzzled expression. The girl wasn’t any better, looking back and forth between the Winchesters as they motioned around to each other, trying to understand what was going on with them, her head tilted slightly to a side. She got nothing though.

Tired of whatever was going on, Sam waved everyone off and got them back on track. Dean kept side glancing at Seren from time to time though, sending confused looks her way that everyone ignored completely.

The group got together to run over the plan one last time. Sam, Dean and Henriksen would remain inside the police station, break the salt lines and scratch the devil’s traps at the entrances to let the demons in. Then, Nancy and deputy Amici, who would be stationed on the roof, would seal the entrances from the outside to trap the demons in while the ones inside kept them busy. Lastly, Henriksen, who would be posted closer to the sound room, would turn on the recording connected to the sound system so the recorded exorcism would resound in the whole building, effectively expelling the demons from their hosts.

“You should go with Nancy and Phil. Give them a hand,” Henriksen suggested Seren after the pair was gone. “Things are gonna get ugly in here.” He added with a serious look her way.

“Three is a crowd,” Seren answered, checking her messenger bad and making sure it was properly adjusted one last time. She didn’t need her hunches to know she would have to move fast. “It’s better for their task to be as inconspicuous as possible.”

“But you can’t fight,” Sam said, a hint of worry in his voice. “If you barricade yourself in one of the rooms, maybe we could—”

“No hiding,” Seren cut him. It came out harsher than intended. She apologized sincerely before adding, this time making sure her tone didn’t betray her. “Don’t worry about me and just concentrate on not getting yourself killed, jolly giant.”

“You’ll only be in the way, sweetheart.” Dean grumbled hanging a cartridge belt on his shoulder and adjusting it there.

“Oh, don’t you worry, pretty boy.” Seren cooed, fitting her gloves. “I won’t be getting in _your_ way.”

Seeing the glint in Seren’s eyes, even if wondering what she would do when she couldn’t fight those demons, made the Winchester boys glad she was on their side this time.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Dean, Sam and Henriksen cleared the entrances of wards and salt lines, the demons poured in the precinct like a swarm. The sound of fighting came from everywhere. Gunshots, glass breaking, doors banging, bodies falling.

And more kept coming.

Sam was splashing holy water at whatever demon came his way after being decked in the face by one, keeping a close eye on Seren who avoided every demon that came for her, going around desks and even jumping over them. Dean seemed annoyed when he saw her, but they were only fighting to win some time, just enough for every demon to get inside, and for Nancy and Phil to draw new salt lines on the exits. So Seren’s tactics were as good as any other, and she definitely wasn’t getting in Dean’s way.

But maybe they had miscalculated how much time they could hold their positions. When Sam tried to fling more holy water at the demons coming for him, nothing came out of the flask. It was completely empty, not even a drop left.

They were at the end of the line.

A surprised yelp reached Sam’s ears, followed by Dean calling Seren’s name. Sam looked around but couldn’t see her anywhere as the demons gathered around him and Dean, ominously quiet, already tasting their victory.

The demon possessing Jenna climbed over a desk, harshly dragging Seren by her braid around it.

Dean couldn’t help but to send a meaningful look to his brother, his way of saying that’s what awaited Sam too if he didn’t get a hair cut soon. Or maybe not so soon, Sam was way taller than Seren after all.

After forcing Seren to stand beside her, the demon adjusted her hold on her hair, grabbing closer to the nape before roughly tugging her head back, making Seren hiss. Eyes fixed on the Winchesters, a wicked smiles on her lips, the demon got closer to Seren’s face, her mouth to the girl’s ear, and whispered something the boys couldn’t get.

Whatever had been said bothered Seren enough to try to break free from the demon’s hold. She simply smiled mockingly at the girl’s attempts, yanking Seren’s head back again, as if telling her to behave. A visceral sneer broke into Seren’s expression, nose scrunched up in disgust as she growled at the demon.

With a mocking sneer of her own, the demon abruptly threw Seren face first against the half wall with all her strength. A loud smack could be hear when Seren’s head hit the wall, making the boys flinch. Dazed by the hit, Seren stumbled with a chair, falling badly on it before hitting the floor, a groan leaving her lips as she held her side, coughing and writhing in pain.

After enjoying her work, the demon faced the Winchesters fully again, a victorious smile on her lips. She rose her arm, the palm of her hand to them. Next moment, both Sam and Dean were thrown against the wall behind them, an invisible force pinning them there. They tried to resist but it was futile.

A dry chuckle broke the silence. It didn’t come from any demon.

In a blink of an eye, not giving anyone time enough to react, Jenna’s body was sent flying to the wall behind her, getting stuck against it much like the Winchesters. Her black eyes went wide open, before snarling menacingly at he person pinning her in place.

With her concentration gone, the Winchester were freed from her power, sliding down the wall, their legs almost giving out. They were quick to recover they footing, free to move at will again.

The other demons present hadn’t even reacted to what had happened. They had followed the motion with their heads, black eyes staring at their colleague—for lack of a better term—before turning, slowly and in unison, to look at where Seren had fallen.

Slowly, she got up from the floor carefully, stance wobbly, leaning against and holding the half wall behind her, the same one she had crashed against. Her other hand was a fist, tightly holding the moon pendant in it. Blood ran down her face, the stitches on her right eyebrow having become undone after hitting the wall. The blood dripped slowly from her chin, red drops staining her clothes, her boots and the gray linoleum at her feet.

Blinking the dizziness away, Seren made sure all her attention remained focused on the snarling demon pinned to the wall. Annulling the one that seemed to be calling the shots was the best she could do in the situation at hand. And the only requirements that had made this moment possible was for the demon to be bold enough to break the Pact on its own, and for Seren to let it land the first strike.

Maybe she could start no fight, but like hell she wouldn’t finish them.

“Henriksen, now!” Dean shouted when he spotted some demons about to go for Seren.

Not even a few seconds later, Sam’s recorded voice resounded from the speakers, flooding the whole precinct with the Latin words of the exorcism.

Seren flinched. She had definitely forgotten about that little part of the plan.

On instinct, the demons covered their ears, trying to protect themselves from the holy words. They started flailing and screaming, banging on the doors as they tried to leave the place before they were expelled from their meatsuits to no avail.

Seren held still for as long as she could, reminding herself that it was just Sam’s voice reciting the exorcism. She had her pendant. She was _using_ her pendant. It was fine. She had nothing to worry about. No Fletcher. No Blake. No one there to hurt her. The exorcism wasn’t for her.

Not for her. Not for her. Not for her.

“ _Humiliare sub potenti manu dei,_ ” Sam’s recorded voice recited.

A shiver ran down Seren’s spine, cold sweat on her skin.

_You don’t even know what it means, right? Why would an abomination like you know? But don’t worry, dear. Mother will tell you._

She felt the ghostly touch of a hand on the back of her head, nails almost scratching her scalp. She heard the echo of a breath getting closer to her ear, could even feel it’s warmth.

_Be humble under the Powerful Hand of God._

Seren ducked out of the way when one of the demons almost ran into her as it tried to escape. Her legs failed her in that very moment, forcing her to crouch and kneel, covering her head, her ears, frantically looking around herself, trying to find a place to hide, to get away from all the chaos.

Pushing aside a fallen chair, the same that had almost driven itself into her side when she fell, Seren crawled under the desk, making herself as small as possible before covering her ears again with trembling hands. But it wasn’t enough to drown what was left of the exorcism. She could still hear it, Sam’s voice becoming other at moments. So Seren started singing to herself, her eyes tightly closed, waiting for it all to be over.

And that’s how Sam found her, curled up and trembling under the table as her lips singed a silent song.

“Hey,” he called for her softly, almost reaching his hand to touch her, to get her attention, but thought better of it. “Seren?”

“Here,” she whispered back, uncovering her ears and opening her eyes, looking right into Sam’s before giving him a lopsided smile, all her trembling gone. “Your brother is gonna be unbearable after this.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “You tell me.”

Seren offered her arm for Sam to grasp and help her out and up, a whine leaving her lips as she got on her feet.

“It worked!” Nancy celebrated before engulfing them in a big effusive hug.

She let go after noticing both Sam and Seren flinching in pain for moving around too much, the big smile on her face gone when she saw all the blood over Seren’s face, quickly going fetch a wet cloth and a first aid kit, almost crashing into Dean as he went to them.

“You’ve got a little something,” Dean said before motioning to all of his face with his hand and pointing at Seren’s, an idiotic smile on his face.

Sam laughed sarcastically at the joke while Seren just shook her head.

She shouldn’t have. The movement made her dizzy, her vision tilting for a moment. She closed her eyes, her hand reaching for the table for support but finding nothing. Lucky her, Sam was quick to hold her steady.

“Got you,” Sam said softly, guiding her to sit on a chair.

“Thanks.” Her voice came fainter than it should as she massaged her temple, eyes still closed and an already familiar feeling on her nose.

“What happened?” Seren heard Nancy’s voice exclaim, hurried steps getting closer. “Here, hold this.” The girl instructed as she pressed what seemed to be a tissue to Seren’s nose. “No, no, no. Don’t lean back! With a nosebleed you have to lean forward. Swallowing blood is no good.”

“Really? Forward?” Seren asked, her voice nasal. She tilted her head enough to be able to spy Sam and Dean from the corner of her eye. “Did you know that?”

“Now I do,” Dean answered.

“Oh, no. This is going to leave a scar now,” Nancy lamented as she cleaned the already dried blood from Seren’s eyebrow. “I only have butterfly bandages here. I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool,” Seren assured, checking if her nose had stopped bleeding. It had.

“One more won’t make much of a difference.” Sam jabbed Dean’s side with his elbow. “Hey! What was that for?”

Nancy looked between the brothers, slightly confused while Seren chuckled, hissing when the girl put some disinfectant on her cut. Poor Nancy was quick to apologize, as she finished patching her up. Once the bandage was put in place, Nancy left with the first aid kit, going to check if anyone else needed anything from it.

Needing something to do but not trusting her footing to move around, Seren opted to distract herself by fixing her hair, redoing her messed braid while the Winchesters checked over the people they had saved this time.

Sam cleared his throat to get her attention. “Do you have something for,” he motioned around them, to all the previously possessed people, now confused as they tried to make sense of what had happened. “Damage control?”

“Not enough, I’m afraid.” Seren sighed, shaking her head. She saw Dean open his big mouth to complain. “And no, I can’t make more on the go.”

He gave her a look, the kind one gives to someone that was shamelessly trying to play hooky. Seren’s brow twitched into a frown for a second. She got up from the chair, standing tall in front of the Winchester, her chest slightly puffed at the offense, and flung her braid over her shoulder so it fell down her back.

“Do you happen to have morning dew from a full moon night collected from the needles of a fir not more than six moths ago?” She asked him, arms crossed, head high and eyebrow arched his way. His dumbfounded expression was all the answer she needed. “Thought as much.” She practically let herself fall back on the chair.

Her head hurt. She was tired.

“You shouldn’t sleep,” Sam warned her. “You may have a concussion.”

“Improbable. I’m absurdly strong-headed.” Seren giggled at her own joke. Then, she stopped short. “Actually, yeah, you may be right.”

“Take it easy,” Dean said, patting her softly on the shoulder as if congratulating her. “You… Hmm… You did good.” He added.

Seren looked at him with a half bewildered half guarded expression on her face.

“If you say so,” she said slowly, looking at him a tad suspiciously.

“It’s a compliment, sweetheart. Just take it,” Dean let out a frustrated groan, waving at her dismissively as he went to talk with Henriksen.

After smiling at Seren and giving her shoulder a little squeeze, Sam followed after his brother.

The boys spoke with the agent, their expressions serious at first, tense, making her curious about what was going on. They were speaking too low for her to hear and it would be too blunt of her to approach the group, so she only observed.

Henriksen’s lips drew what Seren could only understand as a conspiratorial smile. As he spoke, the same expression appeared on the Winchesters’ faces, relieved of getting out of whatever hook they had been caught on. After shaking Henriksen’s hand, Sam and Dean went to the door while the agent picked up the phone to make a call.

Once at the door, Dean stopped, making Sam almost walk into him.

“Need a lift?” Dean asked, turning to look at Seren, motioning for the exit. The girl looked around herself, trying to see to whom he was talking to. It irritated him. “Seriously?”

“I’m good,” she nodded, awkwardly waving at him to just go.

“You sure?” Sam was the one to insist.

“Get out of here, lads!” Seren laughed a bit nervously.

“Aye, aye.” Dean conceded, hands in the air.

Seren watched them go, a heavy feeling settling in her gut. They might have gotten out of a prickly situation, but something told her it wasn’t over yet. Part of her had wanted to just leave with the Winchesters, while another felt uneasy of doing so, as if it was the wrong thing to do.

And so, she decided to stay around, asking Nancy if there was anything she could do in the meantime to help, and forcing herself to remain calm as her gut feeling only got worse and worse.

The people that had been possessed had already left. Phil and Henriksen were checking some paperwork and files, while Nancy swept the floor, leisurely talking with Seren, who had been practically forced by the girl to just sit down and get some rest after stumbling a few times with her own feet.

“I know of a good place we can go get breakfast.” Nancy said with a bright smile. “They make some mean French toasts.”

“Please, tell me you can add as much cinnamon as you want.” Seren practically implored. Nancy giggled at that, shaking her head good-naturedly.

In the silence, Seren heard steps coming: heels, the stocky kind; and a fainter set, like those of a child.

A chill went down Seren’s back.

“Oh, hey there.” Nancy greeted.

Seren’s attention went to the newcomers, a plain-looking woman and a little girl with long wavy brown hair and rosy cheeks. Ever so politely, the kid walked towards Nancy, saying that she was looking for two boys.

“They are brothers,” the girl said. “One’s really tall and one’s really cute?”

Uneasy, Seren got up from her chair, slowly, trying to go unnoticed. But the woman saw her, her expression a blank mask even if her eyes stared at Seren with contempt.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” Nancy asked the little girl, bright smile on her lips.

“Lilith.”

The child’s eyes turned white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After having to re-read most of Lilith's Arc and my notes to remember where I left and where I'm going, I can definitely say that my proofreading skills suck. So many typos. They're everywhere.  
> So extra thanks for reading past them.  
> I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> If you find any mistake, of any kind, don't doubt to tell me.  
> Remember that kudos and comments give me life.  
> Thanks for reading.


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